Vanilla clouds drift across cinnamon skies
On promenades immortal I sit wondering why,
The ages of past lives don’t live on in the mind,
Except deep in the subconscious within the mists of time,
Whimsical notions of what may have been
As I now wander through the saffron gardens,
In search of the long lost lavender road
The leads me to places from times long ago,
Where silks and spices were carried as cargo
By merchants of trade in search of gold
And as I wander through this evergreen crested
Verdant green luscious hillside,
Through azaleas of dazzling colours
I soon get the sense,
That so much of life is created in mind
And you can choose as to whether it’s dull or sublime
But me I fill it with memories of beautiful things,
As I sit under the Bhodi tree listening to nightingales sing.
fauxcroft 
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