Place Of My Own

I am searching for that place in my dream,

Where the horses run on the meadow green.

Where the night sparkles and the cold breeze blows.

I dream of a place where the silent river flows.

 

This emotionless world is a scary place,

Everyone seems to be in a race.

Put on your running shoes,

You either come first or you lose.

 

Rushing towards the next role to play,

Our desires have very little say.

We all seem to be made of clay,

Molding ourselves day after day,

To fit in this world like a piece of puzzle,

We have lost ourselves somewhere in this hustle.

 

Sitting in front of the computer in the highest tower,

I long to breathe and smell the flower.

As I close my eyes I dream not of skyscrapers and gold,

Not of shiny cars and new clothes.

 

But, amidst the mountain, of a piece of land of my own,

Of a wooden cottage by the river, I would call home.

Of cotton clouds and sky blue,

Of eucalyptus trees in the evening hue.

 

I am searching for that place in my dream,

Where the horses run on the meadow green.