Elementia Imagination

It was a mild day in the middle of the summer, not the type that glued your shirt to your back, but the type where the soft spoken wind whistled easy, breezy tunes if you weren’t too busy to listen. Me, being a kid, I was never busy.

The pencil soars across the black page painting imagination, uniqueness illuminating places concealed in the corner of your mind bringing eccentric beasts into the fabric of reality blustering winds rush over once serene, quiet glades rainbows tango in the sky translucent beads of water descend f

Although I have never been,

I can smell the condensed aroma

of fresh bread in the bakery,

occupying its place in the noses of bypassers.

Although I have never been,

I can distinguish between the flavor

of black and green olives,

home can be anywhere with a song a constant melody an extravagant sound

warmth without sun cold without ice feel anyway you’d like

Even if the school desks Are perfectly aligned And the chairs evenly spaced And the walls precisely decorated And the white boards Sparkling white,

Standing in the middle of the stage microphone taped to my face singing my heart out

Handcuffing the mass murder who has been loose for decades lowering his head into the cop car

This place, that place, there are so many in which I can be, But I choose that one, the one where I can be free. It can be a place where the sun shines at the crack of dawn, A place that is so dreamy it can make me yawn. This place is there for me night and day, This place is where I can hide awa