Whispers of the Young-Hearted

The daydreams of two people in love

When we lay together,

Our whispers caressing lips,

Listening to the drone of the T.V,

feeling the warmth of the other,

We talk about our next chapter.

Of sprawling, tall grass fields,

that ripple, like ocean waves, with every breath mother natures draws.

Golden hills, the color of your hair, and blue skys, much like your eyes.

Of a large, white, old house, with porch swings, and a balcony, on which to lay in the sun, gazing at the towering oak tree, where a tire swing hangs from it's branches

Of a wrap around porch, where little fast feet race, turning it into a race track with their imaginations.

Of beautiful, cool summers, where the windows open to the breeze, that makes the long white curtains dance.

Of smiles, of joy, of laughter.

A sanctuary for us, and for others who wish to join our world.

Where happiness soars and runs wild, probably driving us crazy.

But no matter, we love it anyways.

We whisper these secrets to each other in the dark, as if they're forbidden, with a caution as if someone would take our secrets away, if we were heard.

It feels special, it feels sacred, to share these hopes and dreams of our next chapter.


The End

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