And though I walk with mother earth through her green mountains
though the chill wind kisses my lips like a lover
though I am caressed by the warm arms of the sun in clear blue skies
though I am free to run my hands down the red rocked cheeks of canyons
though the fragrant wild flowers and mountain air make me drunk with delight
I am not home
My heart is...
...where I walk with her hand in mine
...where I kiss her cool lips on a winters day
...where I am held in her gentle arms and know I'll be fine
...where my fingers gently trace the outline of her rose colored cheek
...where breathing her scent is more intoxicating than all the world's opiates
My home is not here. My heart is lost...
...to a dream that will never be.
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