photo credit: anneso_cachemireetsoie

a dream

the day is young,
the coffee cold
the window is my lookout

and down below i can see
the streets paved with magic,

fairies are spies,
the branches are wands,
up the street, a white rabbit

and i am here,
and i am there

frolicking in a wonderland of madness

I never write poems; never, ever. But I love reading them and I decided to give it a whirl. Also, I just noticed I published this at 11:11 PM. Make a wish. ★