There is a meadow in my perfect world…where wind dances the branches of a tree ,casting leopard spots of light across the face of a pond. The tree stands tall and grand and alone, shading the world beneath it. There will come a day when I rest against its spine and look out over a valley where the sun warms, but never burns. I will watch leaves turn. Green, then amber, then crimson. Then no leaves at all. But the tree will not die. For in this place, winter never comes. It is here, in the cradle of all I hold dear, I guard every memory of you. And when I find myself frozen in the mud of the real, far from your loving eyes…I will return to this place, close mine, and take solace in the simple perfection of knowing you.
In my perfect world, there is a fragrant grass... Every time the breeze dances, the branches of the trees sway, and the mottled light and shadow are scattered on the pool surface. The tall trees by the water are independent, and the canopy sprinkles the pond. Holding the lush branches and leaves, it seems to border the sky. One day, I will rest on the trunk of the tree, accompanied by the warm sun, overlooking the distant mountains and valleys. Watch the leaves turn from green to yellow and back to green. Until the west wind suddenly picked up, and they all swelled. But the tree will not wither, because in my world, no winter comes. Everything that I love, is nurtured and grown here, and the memories with you are also collected here. Even if I am trapped in the quagmire of reality, even if I never see the light in your eyes again, I will eventually return to this place and rest in peace. It is a great honor for me to meet you.
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