Narcoleptic Nomad VI

I recline in soft fields of shamrock along the jagged coast…

As I dream of Ireland…

Cliffs plummet into the dark waters and the oceans force my spirit into a spiraling dive…

Pieces of medieval poetry rest among the bell shaped blue flowers…

Sweetness and salt touch my lips as lover would…

Clouds billow and the wind whips…

Mr. Sandman calls me back home…

-Madamchryzl-

Alternative Ending:

Mr. Sandman calls me back home, just before my pint of Guinness was served…🖤