A sliver of silver hope, the tear of a dry desert,

Merfolks’ sparkling smiles as bright as golden ink.

A boat of dreams, snaking through twilight speckled with stars,

Rusty photographs draw you past a velvet curtain, and back into the heart of your memories.

Clasp the memory, slippery as moss-stained rocks nestled in a river like eggs in a nest,

Crystallised canyons, frozen like statues by a cobweb clock;

a tattered, shabby book, one glance at the wonders of the atlas

leads you into a long-forgotten world made of sand.

Mango beaches ripe with foamy sea fragments;

frosty mountains crowned with icicle valleys.

Goblin gates guard whispering, purple wind waves;

twisted forests cloak the tingling, drifting piped music blown from the ancient dwarf horns;

twilight waterfalls conceal mystical creatures trapped in the glacial water.

Tangled trees hold Latin scrolls written on parchment as old as the sunset;

dark caves contain towering, fiery beasts flicking their magnificent tails,

eyes glistening like everlasting fireworks, turn a glass handle

and enter a world of pirates, dinosaurs, space and treasure islands.