Dreamland

With the falling of the rain,
my thoughts drift away,
to a place only I can see.
Where trees are green and children play.
Where flowers bloom after the spring rain.
The smell of sweet blossoms fills the air.
Not a flaw of nature in this place.
Perfection shines through the veins of leaves.
With the falling of the rain,
my thoughts drift away,
to a place only I can see.

Angela Prom
 © 1997

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