The Real World

I saw the autumn leaves peel up off the street, take wing on the balmy breeze and sweep you off your feet. You blushed as they scooped you up on sugar maple wings, to gaze down on the city below, ablaze with wondrous things.
Downy feathers kiss your face and flutter everywhere. Reality is a lovely place but I wouldn’t want to live there.
Weighed down by heavy lids and lunar lullabies, I knew you were wide awake because you smile with your eyes.
Downy feathers kiss your face and flutter everywhere. Reality is a lovely place but I wouldn’t want to live there.
From the green belt balcony, the wildfires look so pretty. Ponderosa canopy, I’d never leave if it were up to me. To the ruby redwood tree, and to the velvet climbing ivy: painted all mahogany, I’d never leave if it were up to me.
With a starry brush, paint the dusk venetian blue, because in the evening hush, you’ll never believe the view. And when the leaves return and their whisperings fill the night, they’ll freeze and burn where fire and ice collide.
Can you feel a silk embrace in the satin air? If we dissolve without a trace, will the real world even care? Downy feathers kiss your face and flutter everywhere. Reality is a lovely place but I wouldn’t want to live there.
The twilight deepens and the city is suddenly ablaze with shimmery enchantment. It’s getting dark but you’re still chasing rainbows and I’m rearranging lobby chairs on the hotel patio. Across the avenue, the garden carpet peels up and sweeps you off your feet, swinging you out over the edge of the veranda balcony, swirling and twirling you through the eventide. I look up and try not to smile because I rather admire you.
I guess I just want to say that if you ever need someone to keep you company, I’ll be right here.

-from OWL CITY blog-