Imagination lives
in the knots in the bedroom door,
and the gap between the bed and the floor.
Imagination lives,
in the waves on the beach,
And the myriad of colours just out of reach.
Imagination lives
in the summer breeze,
that gently rustles the leaves of the trees.
Imagination lives
in a clear starry night,
with no clouds to mask the sight.
Imagination lives
in an autumn mountain scene,
with green, yellow, red and blue in between.
Imagination lives
in a flowing stream,
where all types of aquatic life can be seen.
But when imagination dies,
the fire goes out of my eyes,
and I become blind,
until the storm passes,
and the sun shines again.
