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.