Abundance

The leaves at our feet are rich and golden
We trample through them with the eagerness of new-borns
Scoop the moonlight in our pockets
Gobble down the stars
Night time is an abundance of riches
We savour each one as if it is our last
Morning comes with a wave of disappointment
We like the dreams
The places sleep takes us to the edges to
It feels real
Although we know it is not
We wait for the powder
Look out the window
Count our fingers and toes
Nothing comes quickly enough
Soon the leaves will wear away and cold winds will wrap around our shoulders
We will wait for winter too
As long as we can think
There will be an abundance of magic.