There is a place I want to go,
So please indulge this harmless fantasy
That I want to share with you.
Iâ€™m not sure if it exists in reality,
But if I can picture it in words,
Then maybe youâ€™ll be there with me.
Iâ€™m not looking for somewhere grand.
It starts with a wooden dance floor,
Found underneath a starry sky
And just outside my back door.
We’re thronged by friends;
None care how we look, or what we wore.
Thereâ€™s music playing that we enjoy;
Some indie-pop, with beat and melody.
It moves us to jump about
And makes us feel that weâ€™re finally free.
Itâ€™s by a band thatâ€™s good but ill remembered,
Like Preston School of Industry.
Itâ€™s the time for long shorts and short sleeves.
Iâ€™m drinking a pint of bitter shandy.
But it’s not too hot, meaning we can dance
For just as long as we fancy.
Thereâ€™s plenty of food, good for all ages,
Fruit salad, sausage rolls, and heaped bowls of candy.
There are tall trees about us,
So if the night wind blows cold, weâ€™ll never know.
The kids are running over the dance floor,
Then across the surrounding meadow.
The adults are talking, laughing, and messing around;
The older they are, the younger they grow.
The night goes on, so short, so long,
Stretching itself into the morn.
Weâ€™re all sleepy but happy,
Anticipating the dawn.
No-one need worry about the drive home;
Thereâ€™s a snug bed waiting for everyone.
When we finally awake,
Our bodies feel loose, like new-born.
Tomorrow shines like a sun;
All our cares are long gone.
Thereâ€™s plenty of sausages and eggs,
And the bacon’s well done.
By this poemâ€™s end, youâ€™ll already know,
If youâ€™re coming to the place I want to be.
Iâ€™m drawing it with words,
Though it goes beyond what eyes can see.
The best thing about my picture,
Is that youâ€™ll be there with me.