There is a meadow in my perfect world. Where wind dances the branches of a tree, casting leopard spots of light across the face of a pond... The tree stands tall and grand and alone, shading the world beneath it. It is here, in the cradle of all I hold dear, I guard every memory of you. And when I find myself frozen in the mud of the real - far from your loving eyes, I will return to this place, close mine, and take solace in the simple perfection of knowing you.