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Where My Friend Lives

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I know a place
I like to reside,
it is made of light
where all shadows hide,
The hills are so pure
One river travels through
It’s a part of my mind
That I never knew.
Can I come here asleep?
Only, my friend.
Unless, of course,
you come here dead?
I don’t really know
Whether I’m alive.
Then you’re in limbo,
and quite sleep deprived.
Take a rest my friend,
by this nice, perfect tree,
and watch how it flows
so curiously!
Interesting.
Is it? If interest exists.
It’s more like a mirror
of afternoon bliss.





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