at the tip of my fingers
the flower buds feel like cotton
they are waiting for the right time to bloom
or perhaps the right person to make them bloom
i make my way through the end of the meadow
and the grass tickles my toes
though there is actually no end
maybe just a little further away
from home and everybody else
a place where magic could be sensed
where nothing beats the sound of nature
the true melody of peace and serenity
that sparks wonder in my heart
an escape where anything is possible
where dreams have no limit
and stories never have to end
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