you can fly

Think of the happiest things
It’s the same as having wings
Take the path that moonbeams make
If the moon is still awake
You’ll see him wink his eye
You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!

any merry little thought….

so today, that’s what i will do.  these short snippets are what i want right now, what i yearn for.  with the click of my mental camera and the quiet shuffle of memories long past it all converges into:  shimmering sunlight daydreams, little lemon drop desires, and the images of dreams that come under the glow of soft moonlight, that’s where i’ll go.

second star to the right, and straight on till morning.

bare feet in sand as the ocean foams at the shore.  wait.  pause.  inhale.  salt tang on the wind, exhale with the breeze.  tiny crystals make up the glimmering beach.

a thrill, a tingle.  pop rocks up and down my spine.  thrum of bass, muted booming drum.  slinking chords in a minor key.  heart pulses, muscles ache just to move….

it’s evening, and the crickets sing a lullaby to the day.  lightning bugs flash in the dimming light, as the sky turns to cerulean with the exit of the sun.

blurred landscape of green and brown flows past windows.  wind rushes in through the gap between glass and rubber.  naked foot against the sun-warmed dash.  here goes nothing.

lie under starry skies.  pinpricks of brilliant light spread across inky black.  fuzzy blanket.  shift, rearrange, settle and sigh.

morning eyes opened slowly, drift across crinkled sheets.  hands meet empty air as the blink of lashes wipes away dreamscapes.  dreams dissolve, illusion shatters.

warmth blossoms in my core.  the rich lull of golden peat, velvet liquid on my tongue.  amber swirls, turns to honey in the light as the scent of oak and heather rises from the glass.

any merry little thought…

shoes drop into the sand with a whisper.  granules part beneath my feet, and the spongy damp gives as earth meets water.  splashes of salt fly in the air as the cold shock of the sea coats toes, ankles, calves.  laughter.

blades of emerald — shock of summer green.  cool brush of grassy scent through humid air.  white stone gleams in the distance across a shining pool.  buzz of voices, giggles, flash of smiles and floppy hats.

cuddles on a hard pew.  a circus of people surrounds us, bright colors, hum of activity in the air.  no one stands at the pulpit.  all of that in the background of the soft kiss of skin and a gentle embrace.

the pillow gives against my back as i turn with a sigh.  sunlight filters through the blinds.  late morning, lazy morning.

the dusky scent of books weaves tales of centuries past.  mingling smells of cracking leather covers and pages brittle and worn with time.  deep maroon and navy blue, faded in the dim light.  whispers from the pages within, stories, adventures, history, knowledge.  thousands of voices murmur, bound  forever in stasis between covers and thread.

laughter, always laughter.  knowing smiles and shared glances.  sparkling eyes and easy cameraderie.  laughter.

any merry little thought…

think of all the joy you’ll find
when you leave the world behind
and bid your cares good-bye

….i’ll let you all finish the rest.  of course, we all know neverland has its pirates, cruel mermaids, glorified juvenile vagrancy, ticking crocodiles,  and very un-pc racial stereotypes, but….

…second star to the right and straight on till morning.


About Emmie Mears

Saving the world from brooding, one self-actualized vampire at a time.

Posted on 23 April, 2009, in meanderings, snapshots life and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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