Read me a story, tell me a tale
Sit with me father, tell me a tale, tell me of endless nights with star filled skies and moons that are full and burn ever so bright.
Sounds of silence or the gentle rustling of wind kissed trees, majestic mountains that seem to touch the stars and yet appear so small as they sit in the palm of my outstretched hand.
Please tell me of gentle streams that ripple with the soothing sounds of peaceful bliss, that which my restless soul cries out for.
Don’t forget the cold crisp mountain air which fills my lungs with the purity that only Mother Nature can provide.
Describe the fire that warms my body and soul with its fresh aroma of oak and sycamore.
The snapping and cracklings from the logs we had gathered, creating a feeling of serenity as I drift of to sleep.
With the dancing of reds and orange light all the while warming me on this cold mountain night.
Will I wake to the smell of breakfast treats such as eggs and ham and the smell of hot coffee brewing?
I just know tomorrow’s early sunlight will show me a waking world seen by so few, such as eagles soaring free as the very people we sit next to wish they could be.
Such grand ideas and dreams on this day, soon when the alarm rings, it will be time once again to awaken and rejoin my unadventurous reality.
The one of classrooms and books that tell me no stories, then the same old bus rides and the same quiet friends.
If it weren’t for my dreaming, just what would I do, how boring this life of mine would all seem to be.