Sitting by the windowsill, I wish of,
Escaping to a serene space,
Where there is a wildness to the landscape.
Where the tulips are in full bloom,
At the onset of spring, inspiring rebirth.
Where I immerse myself in
Cosmically mundane yet individually profound escapades.
Sitting by the windowsill, I wish to,
Evanescence the voices in my subconscious,
Fragments of memories which no longer serve my soul.
Consuming oneself in fancy and artsy reflections,
After all its not every day that you run away from absolute reality.
Sitting by the windowsill, I wish
I could do this daily, elude with in my head,
I shall now return to the life I have.
I bid a final adieu to these enchanting landscapes.