by Laura Harray

I remember the fields like a vast green ocean
blending with the scent of the sea on the breeze,
or so it seemed from afar.
I saw the sky like an artist’s palette, lit up
in majestic clouds of peach and purple and pink
that fell over the hills as the sun set.
I knew the night; its velvet, its silk and its satin.
The stars and the sky were my brothers
and the gentle winds my comforter.
It was my paradise, that place where two worlds
met as with ends of a string. I tasted reality
in the ripe fruit that hung from the spreading trees,
I saw imagination caught within the shape
of a seashell. I drank elixir from the winds
in the hope that it would strengthen
my body and my mind. And it did.
But now, I see what I saw no longer.
The sky I once knew has withered like a leaf
and the wind I once felt is stale on the hills.