Summer came by,
We’d have fun till we run dry,
Swimming in the emerald sea,
We took a picture for you to see.
The sun is bright,
The sand is on fire,
Drinking a can of Sprite,
Wishing you were here.
Sitting on the beach chairs,
Enjoying the ocean breeze and scorching sun,
From baby blue to orangey red,
Reminiscing how it all begun.
Faraway from the concrete jungle,
I hear paradise calling out to me,
I could hear the bells jingle,
I know there’s where I want to be.
The ocean breeze and golden sand,
From the ocean floor to human land,
There’s just so much to do,
You’d wish this life would never end.
Laying on the soft smooth sand,
Under a blanket of diamonds,
Looking up I’d wonder,
About things no words can express.
As days go by time and time again,
I wish the hands of time would never move again,
So that I could stay in this moment,
For the rest of my life.
Edgar sat at his writing table. He could hear the clock on the wall ticking every second, reminding him of the poem that still lay unfinished. Piles of crumpled papers lay scattered on the floor; some tumbled out from the wastepaper basket that is already overflowing. Stranded halfway after the lines “Their still waters- still and chilly, with the snows of the lolling lily”, Edgar poked blankly at the mimosa plant, sinking deeper and deeper into his train of thoughts.
After hours of daydreaming, Edgar moved from his seat to the refrigerator downstairs, walking past pictures and portraits of his family that brings back memories of his childhood. He grabbed a few eggs and bread, thinking he’d make himself some toast. After satisfying his stomach, Edgar decided he’d go for a walk instead. He refuses to think anymore.
Grabbing his coat, he strolled across the lawn and head towards a lake nearby, which lately became his favorite spot to relax whenever he gets a writer’s block. He lay on the soft, green grass and looks up at the sky. Puffs of clouds like cotton candy sailed by ever so slowly and birds flying gracefully in the clear blue sky.
It was these peaceful moments that drove Edgar into a long dream, taking him to places that seem so familiar yet unknown. When he woke up, he scrambled back to his room and began scribbling on his paper. He didn’t want to lose his inspirations while it still lingers in his head. And thus, he managed to finish writing his poem and named it ‘Dreamland’.
