IronPython

The Meadow in My Dream By: Peter Paulsen Lying down I feel the cold water caressing my neck from the grass. contrasting the warm air on my face. The crackle and sway from the branches above me. Trying so desperately yet lazily to break free from the mighty trunk. The sun blocked by the clouds ever so often. I breathe in through my nose smelling the pine in the air, the freshwater stream next to me. The water playing it’s duet with the branches above, a trio to the bugs on its face and a quartet to the fish trying to get its next meal from above their watery domain. If only this was the last forever. If only this was true and real; but