by Kabrea James and Chani Felder/

Not quite summer, barely spring.
It feels that way to me.

Sometimes in the night,
I lay awake at the other end of the bed,
well rested and listening
The moon shines in.
Thru the same window.

Where does the time go?
Even in the clearest clear mind, i can’t decide.

Forgot to pull the blinds in the eve.
Now it’s late in the night and I’m fixated on her glow.

Time comes and goes.
these are nature’s rules.
i’m transformed from a feeling alone

enlightened, from feeling alone

my slumber was sweet
and now her words are warm
and what she’s saying is true.
dreams of abundance
seep into the sunrise
and everything she said was true.

Imagination… seen as a treasure

as a child, but an addiction once you walk across the graduation stage.

Used for gain rather than enjoyment

like the foundation on a 1910 house

filled with nothing but flaws.

I like to pretend.

Pretend?

Pretend!

I like to pretend like I am okay

Use my imagination to picture

a picnic sunset near the crashing

waves of companionship

Reconnecting with the cosmic energy that threatens the threshold of reality.

Sometimes I pretend

to hear the squeak of the rusty rocking bench as you speak life into the mailman,

as you treat every being like a special rose in your garden.

Sometimes I pretend I am you.

So warm and welcoming.