Screaming Swans

Everybody's got their happy place

I see skies of pink

And sands of white.

The pegasi graze

All through the night

Upon clouds of cotton

And winds of ice.

I smile at the moons.

They wink back twice.

 

Grinning, I dig my toes

Into the ground.

My ears tilt back

To the magical sounds:

The chiming of bells,

A whistling bird,

The laughing of zebras - 

An entire herd.

 

I laugh in return,

But nothing comes out.

I try again,

I even shout,

But nothing's changed.

Why am I mute?

 

"Drink with me," calls a man

With an emerald lute.

 

I don't trust him.

He shouldn't be here.

This is my world - 

My mental sphere.

 

"Get out," I try growling.

"Get out!" I try shrieking.

But the man only smiles.

I know what he's seeking.

 

"This isn't real,"

He promises me.

"It's all in your head.

"Why don't you see?"

 

I close my ears

And turn away.

The moons retreat

And prepare for day.

The pegasi follow,

Carried by gales.

I can't let them go,

So I grab for their tails.

 

They slip through my fingers

As the sand traps my feet.

 

"You need to wake up,"

Says the man from his seat.

He plucks the lute's strings

And the notes scream on

Like screeching fiddles

And a furious swan.

 

The sand falls away,

As if through a strainer.

I throw myself down

To grasp at remainders.

There's nothing left

But the rocks in my hand.

What's left of my sanctuary,

A world once so grand?

 

The man approaches with a cup.

I shy 'way and stumble on air.

"Drink," he insists.

What do I care?

There's nothing left for me.

So I swallow the rocks at hand

And drink the offered water.

By the time I stand

 

I'm back at Bellevue.