This is my dream; to walk in a an autumn meadow
With a limitless ceiling of soft blue and a path of browning grass.
Goldenrod and the last daisies swinging and bowing in the breeze,
Inviting me to one last dance before the end.
And I fill my breath with the smell of fallen leaves from the trees ahead
A rare dying sweetness, mixed with earth and the remnants of frost.
Golds, reds and a rare green pressed by passing feet into a mosaic
Richer than carpets in the houses of kings.
Let me follow the clouds of birds scudding home in the southern sky.
I lift my arms to the winds that arise and fly to my imagination.
