Where The Gardenias Grow

When I was younger I dreamt of a special place.
A place like no other, every night I dreamt it.
It was a place full of happiness
it was a place where I always found love.

I remember closing my eyes and
immediately feeling the coolness of the air
and breathe and fill my lungs with the
smell of the blossoming Gardenias.

The sun was always present but never
was it too strong, it was benevolent and kind,
and in the afternoons the springs showers
cooled the earth; it was always spring in this place.

When I grew up the dream became faint
and it started fading like the morning fog.
Every day it became harder to find that dream,
it didn’t come when I closed my eyes, nor when I slept.

I got lost trying to find that place,
I forgot who I was, I stopped being me,
I searched but it was unreachable it was
like it was on the other side if the sun.

And that special place full of wildflowers
became like a past memory from my childhood
and I myself lost a piece of me in this place
and now I was unable to find it.

But I am still resilient to find it
and smell the wonderful Gardenias one more time,
I just have to dream a little harder, close my eyes for longer
and maybe I will be able to once again see it.

This time I will stay there in that place where the Gardenias grow.

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