Fireflies

I like to think

That fairies 

And cheetahs

Frolic together

In some green paradise

Where kisses lay

Like whispers 

On the dew

And love isn’t

A barbed-wire,

Chain-linked fence,

Or a brick wall-

Quarried from the rocky mountains

Of wrong desires. 

No,

In my paradise,

Love is an open gate

Without a lock

And a meadow 

Of memories 

Where candied children 

Drink vanilla sunsets

And walk 

Always to remember. 

In my dreams

Almond joy

Fills our tummies 
With butterflies.

And our eyes beam 
With love.

Yes, 

That’s what it’s called.

In our paradise.

It's a kind of magic that,

In our dream, 

Can make a wilted flower 

Bloom again-

A rose is a rose

And by any other name

You still smell...

Too sweet.

Too dear.

Too real.

Stop!

This is the part 

When my mind remembers

The nightmare;

The nightmare that tore
My fantasy to pieces.

So, wake up:
In my world

Fairies don’t exist- 

And if they did, 

They sure wouldn’t dance

With cheetahs.

That is-

If cheetah’s could fly.