With a roof of a thousand twinkling stars,
we sit around the cozy campfire.
Enveloped in the sweet smell of toasted marshmallows,
As the perceptible phototactic bugs are stuck in a dance with the fire.
Listen carefully, and you can hear the magical music without lyrics,
it speaks to the soul.
It's the bombinate of the forest, the melody of your mind.
The surroundings are bathed by the glow of the grey moon.
Every color seems equal, smudging of white and black watercolors.
You're in a safe cocoon of comfy blankets.
Supine on the soft soil, a pile of leaves as your pillow,
Bottle the petrichor deep in your lungs, let the lid be your soul.
Ineffable sensations seep through every pore of your being.
Feel that endorphin course through your eunoic brain,
A brilliant beautiful bower.
A delicate delicious dream.

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