White Noise

I want the shoreline,
the foamy white waves
into rock
like soldiers sparring in battle;
the horizon brushed
with soft strokes
of lavender, rose pink and azure;
the low-toned
white noise of the water.
I want the ground, the grass, the dirt
hugging my feet.
I want the sky
cupped in my palms,
the clouds kissing my cheek,
the wind cradling me
in its fragile arms.
I want the sting of the sun
and the flowers waving,
"Hello, how are you?"
as they mingle and flirt
amongst the dandelions,
who sit tall with heads high next to me
telling me to wish for whatever I want,
to close my eyes,
to feel warm air,
to smile.


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