Finding Oz

Finding Oz

January 13

I can see the pot of gold
The emerald city from afar
Paradise from songs of old
Eternal lights that cure the dark

Running through the field
To jump into your arms
Kissing my hand on your knees
And beaches where it’s warm

Walking off into the sunset
Your arm around my waist
Stairs to the private jet
Your kisses I can taste

But I don’t know how to get there
No clear path, no yellow road
I wait in silent slumber
To do as I’ll be told.

150 150 Stafford Wood
Start Typing