Summer afternoon.

Perhaps I am sentimental
and full of wistful make believe
at times I am not so sure if my feet even touch earth
but tonight I am sure of one thing.

 The rustle in the trees
the smell of citronella and matchbook promise
were arranged by the fairies that watch over the dark
to bring to life my dreams

The past was not for nothing
All my fanciful ramblings about destiny and fate were heard, indeed
I know for fact that much is true
Because you're here and that is all that I need.