Dream
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Poem:		42579
Rain, cascading down my windowsill. Bringing Life. Effervescent. Falling upon the pavement. Making its beautiful music. The soft pitter-patter lulling me to sleep. I dream of wondrous places. Shining with light. Joyful creatures. A place where all are happy and carefree. A utopia where only the pure of heart frolic. A place where the setting sun vanishes behind the horizon, leaving an even more glorious night. Stars glistening against the black ink sky. Paint poured on a canvas. Running in all directions. No margins to obstruct this beauty. You reach towards the moon trying your hardest to touch it. You succeed. Your fingers come away, slick with white creamy paint. It upsets you, for now you realize that this is only a painting. It dawns on you that only in your dreams can someplace this magnificent exist. You reach out. Touching every tree, flower, star and every blade of grass. Your hands; a swirl of different colors. Running through the fields you see the first rays of day starting to peak out from behind the snow-capped mountains. “Not yet.” You think. You want this night to be eternal, but to no avail. These stripes of light burst forth, illuminating anything and everything. “Not now, it’s too soon.” Your dream is slowly coming to a close. Your eyes flutter open slowly. The rain has stopped leaving behind a hazy horizon. Gray and lifeless. How you wish you could return to the land where the colors are vibrant and the music is heard in every object. Your colors. Your music. Not this harsh reality with its melancholy existence. Life and light are not known here. Once again, hopefully, you will return to those rolling hills and jet-black sky. But for now, the life full of misery and heartache is what you must face.
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