Play this while reading, it helps.
I wanted to write you a letter. But by that time, we’d both be in moonrise kingdom.
You know, that place we always wanted to go to.
Green pastures, my beautiful child. Of books. of folklore and music from far far away.
Where fairies swinging on crystal snowflakes abound. Along my blue pebbles and an affectionate meow.
I love you, pink blue breeze- golden lights streaming.
The prairie dog, the Indian maid . With more pictures, more black and more white;
and paintings made of water colours.
We will meet in the meadows.
With shallow creeks, wind and breeze.
Let’s go to the sea and we’ll arrive by a miniature ferry, on an island in the 1960’s.
The old land where I hear you, my Hoopoe bird, the sound of mermaids, the sea, air born yet earth bound.
I’d hear the air hum. The meandering waves, longitudinal and curved, on harps and forks. Made for magic, made for us.
Binocular eyes and notes of rhyme.
Foggy warm breeze, never with too many clothes on.
No fear of pain, pain Young or old.
Eternal, branched sylvan with green.
Down your ears it dripped, touching you neck, now and then. Far above, a speck of a yellow dress, inside a tent where we lay.
A shiny blue beetle inside my heart, it ticks, it ticks. Ticks into a frenzy, it knows you too well, for you have given him an eternal dream. Of crimson fairies and nights so blue, the lone tungsten bulb awake in the raging storm.
Pine needles strewn to hide all the places we’ve been to. They can’t find us, we run amidst their blue wolf like forms. Hidden. Hidden by Tinkerbell’s velvet curtains.
Sounds of crickets and tiny drums. What family of glow worms you come from?
Of minions and mermaids we immerse into the ground, with lake and sea and chirps around.
Dreams, open wide, open to the window sill, on the blanket, warm and orange, made for cuddle. Good night dear fairy, my own, my love.
I shall sleep now.