My havean would be a flower garden that streches out for miles. A white path erupts from the tangle of greenery, seeming to have been forgotten. With tulips brushing against my feet and sunflowers against a tangerine sky, lavender clouds head to the setting sun. Following the path you come across a beautiful bridge, a pattern of yellow and red roses displaying from it’s railings. You walk onto and across the bridge to see that it leads you over a mellow river.
You see orange fish swim with the flow coupled with bear cubs, like in Brother Bear, watching their dinner swim by. Smiling at the thought of them using the fishing hooks. You walk on by into a garden with a forest of autum trees. Vines monkey-bar between the trees and ladybugs chew holes into leaves the size of your head. You catch a glimpse of tree houses, army printed and ready for war. Black birds fly into leaves causing them to lose their grip and lazily fall on the bushes.
You catch a few, crinkle them up and release them into the wind. Turning left away from the white path, you run as you pass your hands on the flowers. You stop, you’ve found it; the torqouis ocean accompanied with waves, a sandy shore and bench. Do you dare to swim? Flinging off your shoes you challenge. Your bare feet touch the moist sand as you scribbel your name with your big toe. Sitting on the bench you emerse yourself into solutiude. Moments later your walking with shoes at hand, following the path of ran over folwers.
The sky still tangerine, the clouds eaten by the sun that refuses to sleep. You find the path you once tredded. A gate with greenery as a right-side bang fills your vision. Laying your back against it’s bars you try to absorb all the little details. Thorns stink into your back, the sky turns a dark purple, the sun less visible. You don’t feel it, you long to return home. Your eyelids droup as you yawn. Murmur goodbyes to the flowers and waves before you fall asleep.