Only In the Morning
I tell a story, that I happen to wake up to at times, as my mind recollect as I open my eyes in the morning.
Your dream is dizzying
like a fountain of life
I have had the time.
Getting lost in your words, and view
like a re-invented idea,
ah! like ice cream?
Thousands in the distance are flooding,
like a stomping stampede, that which
if you watch too closely, you see the idea's,
and life stories.
But, we are all returning, returning for one constant theme.
One that we use to be apart of, or now miss.
the concept of having once upon a time
a childhood, such innocence,
yet an ever-present concept.