Simply Being

A dandelion softly tucked behind your ear,
Wandering an empty field in a white dress you never wear,
And a pair of black boots that seems oddly out of place
...why are you there?

You're walking on logs, touching grass,
Reading books where wildflowers breathe
The vacant field mirrors the vacant mind,
While fingers move with the dance of the leaves
...what do you feel?

Are you looking for answers or simply being, without a destination or a name?
Perhaps some questions aren't meant to be answered
But felt in these feelings unnamed, and the emotions that remain.