Paradise

My paradise is not what you think. It's not a place full of sunlight. It's not a place with blue skies and fluffy white clouds. It's not a place where green grass blows in the gentle wind, or where flowers bloom in brilliant colors. My paradise is the ledge, just outside my bedroom window. At night I climb out and stare at the moon, not caring that I could fall, for I know I won't. This is where I write my best poems, where I go when I'm supposed to be sleeping. This is the place where I feel safe, with the wind blowing back my hair, and the cool night air biting at my skin. This is the place that I call paradise.