Your body is a landscape

It's a landscape and a wonderland. The steps you've taken saved in your cells and the smells of damp, crisp flavoured air embedded in your lungs, continuing your travels with you. You're a physical testament to the places you've been and the things you've touched. The lines on your forehead are a map of your detours with your scars as fireworks on your arrival.

Are you a desert or a foreign land? A mountain or a hill? An ocean or a waterfall? Is your skin full of butterflies or tigers? Or are you simply the surface of the moon?

I'm the asphalt floating by two story houses with driveways lined with hedges and a cold blue sky and leaves in change, a distant sound of traffic and a scent of autumn rain drying in the wind.