If it were my world

Pink clouds brushed with orange breaststrokes

Underground there’s caverns hoarding gold

Between the two is an illustrious blue in a dome with mountains bearing fruit trees

Met with beaches of sugar and

lemon water

whispering secrets into the wind

That carries a scent of yeast rising

Toward the center of my city

Where crowds gather to break bread and listen to stories, trading pennies

The stones in the ground mapping the walking paths

are stitched together in patchwork of a quilt your grandma has

I follow the pattern to hole with a ladder

Where I confidently descend into a twinkling honey hued den

With my best friends all around me

We sing and drink and take the gold from the deep

To meld it into the library

Where hundreds of thousands of books stack through the pink clouds and up to the heavens

In our free time we read

To learn unspoken lessons