Borrowed Paradise

We chase each other in a wild dance of elusion.
We flit throughout the trees
and my heart flutters in my chest.
Skimming through the air,
not touching the ground,
but not quite flying,
just moving too fast too feel anything but each other.
You float away from me,
daring me to follow.
I hear your melodic laughter
floating in the breeze that smells
like blossoming dogwood,
and it makes me smile to myself.
It gives you away.
I dash after the sound
and find you at the
edge of a crystalline pond,
the water shines like
a polished stone of turquoise.
You call me to your side and we sit,
toes in the glass,
looking over the realm of my borrowed paradise:
the immense fields of flowering, never-wilting buds,
the unreal, ark-like array of animals,
the temporary nirvana of the summer breeze,
the perfection that is you.
Of course, none of this can really be mine,
except when my mind relaxes
and I fall into the deepest relapses of dreaming.
But for now, I enjoy every single sweet moment of it.
Just for now, all of this is mine.