Pen Me a Picture

I lept around, skipping on the cliffs. Lush, green, woods and mountains all around. Blissfully existing in my own small corner of the world. A place where my voice could rise over the mountains and I was filled with the Spirit of God. I lay in the greens and blended with the face of the hillside. Laying there, praying praises and celebrating life. No neighbor could hush the belting of my soul. Singing boldly, in reckless abandon, I strummed my guitar. I could hear children playing in the distance and laughter filling the canyons below. I hoisted myself up into an oak tree and rested on the branches still playing, as the rain so mellow, blanketed the sky above and the hairlike grass below. It fell upon my cheek like tears of joy. Seemingly, washing away all the pain from before. Rain drops fell to my lips so sweet, not the water itself, but the feeling upon my skin..... Moistening my lips for more singing and shouting to the clouds. This, this is where my soul still live

A song plays and the melodie delivers sweet memories.   I soak in the remembrance.  Deeply, I breathe in the air and it smells like the past.   The vision flows through my mind and like a low cloud, falls onto my heart.   Bringing warmth, making it beat faster.  It takes me beyond the now.   I sit in another realm where the memory lives.  Like an addicitve flavor on the tongue, or a refreshing scent, I crave more; yearning for remembrance to flow in.   Just as I do, it begins to fade as the song ends.