My Favourite Place

poem

Poem

As I listen to the words
coming out of your mouth,
I imagine a world
where I would rather be.

A mountain full of
yellow flowers instead of snow,
with blue butterflies
landing on my arm
and making me smile.

“Hey, are you listening?”
“Of course.”

You continue pouring the sound
around my head
while my eyes become blind
to this world.

Now I can see the sun
behind the yellow mountain,
vivid but warm,
easy to look at,
melting with the scenery.

A breeze rises,
bringing the spring
birds and the life
I always wanted,
with no sound pollution.

Silence.
You’re gone.
Come back,
you are my muse.

Without you I cannot dream
of my favourite place.

 

more by URSULA RABAR BABIC

photograph by Dylan Gialanella

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