W i t h  h o p e,
      they paint
their lucid
           dreams
               o f  
y  o  n  d  e  r

                         f    e    e
                             l    i 
                                n  g

                f      l     u      i       d  ,

S p r e a d i n g
a r m s  in 
d r u n k e n 
      c o l o u r e d
        s    n    o    w


Unspoken fantasy—
melting into
a madman’s
f l o r i d
         l   a  n   d 
                  s   c    a   p  e

Their heart,
f r o z e n , aged —
yet still moving to
the beat of this
        f r e e
           f    l   o   w 


*

W i t h  h o p e,
      they paint
their lucid
           dreams
               o f  
y  o  n  d  e  r


Naughtily stirring
the  s o o t h i n g
c a l m n e s s
of  s u c h
         w   o    e 

As, from afar,
they look
at this
f r e s h l y
                   p a i n t e d 
                l   a   n    d 
   s    c     a    p    e ,

                       f    e    e
                             l    i 
                                n  g

              f     l     u      i       d  ,

Their minds
a l i g h t
   w i t h
        d  r  u  n  k  e  n 
               
                      c   o   l   o   u   r   e   d
                     
                                     g         l         o         w