I want lighthouses, I want birds, I want miracles.
I want Syria to be okay, I want the bombs to destroy themselves and nothing else.
I want us to learn from history.
Even me.
I want you. I want fragments of diary entries, I want flowers, I want gold letter boxes, and the arch of your back.
I want a boat trip to the end of the sea.
I want rain, I want long dusty streets.
I want poetry, I want dancers, I want crackly radios, old c-ds.
I want stars, the light that they give when it’s too dark to see anything but them.
I want a bit more light trickling down from dark corners
I want it to fix the world