once i slept in an old withered meadow where once grew of nothing but lush green clover for now just be one grey dried up sea of mesh this is where i dreamed of in the fog that one grey morning whist lying on the old grey withered sod of a different place, of a different landscape, of a different scenery a place where the sun always shined bright as can be a place where the landscape was seemly forever colored in the most radiant, vibrant, colors from seemly the whole spectrum with the scenery full of life; birds, bees, and the like forever dancing across the landscape, radiantly to this place i know somewhere close to heaven