I miss the days when my sun-swelled soul could match a brilliant summer scene.

The hand on hand on word to tongue explosion of a beautiful painting, brush stroked with energy that I thought was endless.

Eye to eye with human kind, in the creativity of new love and unyielding self-expression.

Time creeped, each moment bursting with a thousand others all tied together in the harmony of who I was, and I was good.

Take me back, allow me the access I so desperately crave, to that yellow-haired dreamer who still stood a chance.