I have things for you.
I have a cup of coffee waiting for you when you wake up and french toast.
My bare feet are cold and the squishy ground rises up between my toes.
Bare feet on the soft grass.
Ears soothed by symphonic crickets.
I am standing here, cool green grass under foot, with a sharp eye looking back and staring forward simultaneously.
Maybe it is time to try.
Darkness called, not in a quiet voice, but screaming.
If nowhere were an actual place