On That Bench

A whirlwind of emotions
so caught up in the sounds.
Spinning round in circles
we lift up to the clouds.

Swimming through the oceans
so careful not to drown,
wading through the water
the ripples circle round.

Spells of a magician
still sparkle in the air,
wands waving illusion,
no nightmares of despair.

Lost within the fortress
of greenery and leaves
but on that bench
we sit alone
lost within our dreams.

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