Oh how I dream of warmer, brighter days, but the winter seems to grind on and on. So I take refuge in my dreams and conjure up hot balmy days, where the heat of summer touches my face and I feel young again.
Gone are the aches and pains. I can glide up and down stairs with ease, feel light, almost weightless, instead of laboring under the leaden burden winter heaps on my shoulders. In my dreams I am ageless and free. In my dreams I spin wonderful, golden tales as my pen skips and hops across the page like a newborn lamb, leaving joy in its wake.
In my dreams I can smell the scent of new cut grass and the blowsy, heavy scent of pink roses, along with the fragrance of lilacs.
If only I could live in my dreams.
