Autobiography of a Dream

under an oriental sky a walk is taken through a moss garden peeking with stolen buds freshly blooming across the horizon

there is another who walks within, a tree entangled in a weakened chest that fits to perfection and roots to the lowest depths lighting up lanterns to guide the way

across spherical soundscapes climbing rolling green hillsides sectioned off by cherry groves and delicate rice paper fences

and with bound feet the walk is intoxicating by the jasmine scent of skin and the red oval shape of a mouth that tastes of an endearing universal frailty

~Emily Loren Moss Ferrell

written 03/15/2010 3:30 am est