Stopping for a drink and to drop ink.

We sat down to get a drink, a ice little place called the ebb and flow. It was an imaginary pop-up 

boutique bar just recently realised in a nearby meadow. After crossing to the mirage of miracle we climbed the stiles and steps to sit amongst the toadstools Crazy daisy carpets studded forget me-nots and a lining of bluebells a pace for poets and fools, We summoned provisions  from our rucksacks of many colours, tropical punches called Capri Sunnes Whilst the other customers mainly butterflies and swallows Supped on the sunlight and buttercups and the dew from the winds, Its funny the places you can find to have a good drink if you open you heart and your mind. But you have to dare to be still, to dream and to still imagine not just think 

There are clues left in stories and scattered on pages by stray ink so many castles and dragons in the sunsets and clouds, doorways to fae in the hedgerows If only you maintain your garden plant roses and let love and curiosity grow