I dream of a place
where the carnations sing
and their petals never fall.
The only snow we see
is fresh and powdery
from the night before.
We’ll join a lamb
as she takes
her first steps
and stare in wonder
at the eggs with no yolks.
The only colors to grace us
are pastel and soft.
And no one takes heed
of the lack of butterflies
fluttering in the wind.
I’ll be able to look at us
and appreciate the warm glow
that subtle smiles refuse to veil.
And while we simmer
in the sunlight and vibrant leaves,
I hope we forget
the cycle of time
and don’t notice
the synthetics of the grass.