Earths Get Away

The paddle glided through the clear fresh water like a snowboard through the cold frigid snow. Creating a rippling through the reservare. Flowing on the sides of the boat. The smell of the freshwater drifts up my nose. Smells of fall, Apple pie and foliage mix with the hills. I feel free. All my fears have been diminished. I can feel my problems unwrapping from my mind like a bandage. 

I push the paddle through the glossy, glistening, soft,elegant waters. As it comes back up a, little bit of water flings slightly into the air. As the water comes tumbling down on me. A shower for my legs. I can not feel it for my mind has drifted away to the world of my dreams. A place that only seems to come true when you're sitting in the bathtub. Watching the world go by. As you sit there in the body of water that is captured in your house. Soaking in the bath full of a mountain of bubbles. A mountain so fragile even one movement can break it. Down the bubbles go. Splashing into the calm waters that are flowing around with Zeal. A place where my mind blocks out the calls of the people around. Just me and the faint music of my classmates' songs. As the sound drifts across the lake. A place so special. With a peek in the clouds letting the sunlight out.  Mixing with the imperturbable waters.

 But yet, no rainbow. A place where the world can atone for the problems of the world it did not make. Somewhere so strange you don't know how to tell if it's real. Where the coves go deep. Where the prettiest fish hide. Like something in your dreams as a child. Where the birds communicate to the mountains. Where the wind plays tag with your boat. Where the water is clean. Where you can be alone. Somewhere you can be a callow child again. 

Somewhere you can think about the word orbiting around slowly. A place where you think it is fake until you find it.  A place where the mountains are red with the color of leaves. A place where the wind blows softly. A place where gasoline does not lace the bubbles. A place so magical even the birds land on the rocks to hear the silence. Like a painting for the trees and sky that changes every time they stretch.  So here I am sitting in the middle of the dreams. Sitting in the middle of something real. Sitting outside of the vessel that held me down my whole life.