pretty dreams of castles
clouds and swirling winds that capture memories
of the garden
little children running through the flowers
deep in the meadow, the cottage waits for the
gatherers, their songs fill the forest with
laughter and beauty
their small feet touch the moss and buttercups
so delicately and gently as if the world of nature
were speaking to them in a beautiful
ancient language
wait.....there is the path,
we are here,
we have found the gate to the garden
the garden
of our dreams . . . . .
i create to fill the earth with beauty and softness,
to heal the tattered souls,
to softly touch the smile that has been forgotten
those who have saved my spirit, I have
kept them in the precious memory in my dreams.
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