Paradise

Remind me of a paradise once found

where sunlight was eternal and moonshine danced 

and wove tapestries with the glowing fireflies,

shimmering bulbs in the dark.

When a once used typewriter, now old and overgrown

with wildflowers and honeysuckle, spun stories from golden thread

and spilled words like inky scarves that wrapped around the snow 

white paper.

And if this paradise ever ceased to exist

let me build a new one

deep in the woods where the trees would cascade over the softly 

rippling creek

dropping leaves silently to its waters

sending them off to a paradise of their own.