There's a place to go that feels like a kingdom-
sounds like the magic of a newborn day.
Those shreds of illusion I wrap myself up in
can never dissolve the rapture I'm seeing.
Gazing intently at miles of enchantment
the roar of the mountain takes over my senses.
Layered in purple with streaks of black-silver
singing out clearly across the horizon,
this is the stuff that most dreams are made of.
Amethyst notes that play on in your soul.
for contest "The Sound Of Color"
Copyright © Deb Wilson