Whispers of a White House

Between Dreams and Reality

I always dreamed of a white house.
Not just any house, but a house like Laura’s,
Nestled deep in the woods, hidden from the world,
A place kissed by sunlight and shadow,
Walls gleaming in pure white, standing tall,
Strong against the winds that whispered secrets,
Through the trees that danced with the breeze.

In my dreams, it was perfect.
An orchard stretched out beside it,
Just like Muller’s in San Francisco,
Golden sunflowers swaying in the gentle wind,
Their faces forever turned towards the sun,
Their whispers soft, singing to my soul.
I imagined the way they would rustle,
Their petals brushing against each other,
In a golden sea that stretched endlessly,
Beyond the boundaries of my imagination.

There would be a library, too,
Not just any library, but one like Hogwarts,
With shelves that climbed to the ceiling,
Stacked with books filled with magic and mystery,
Worlds waiting to be discovered,
Stories waiting to be told.
I…