If the world was made of candy,
I’d stick out my tongue to taste the sweetness in the air,
inhaling the sugary scent of powders and pastries with relish.
If the world was made of candy,
I would gallivant about the streets,
sliding my feet against the bouncy jello cobblestones and running my hands over the rough ginger walls.
If the world was made of candy,
I’d stumble through tall stalks of peppermint and delve into oceans spilling over with rich, brown, chocolate and abounding in rainbow gummy fish wriggling their fins and blowing lavender-colored bubbles until I could just skip of the purple-rimmed sea.
If the world was made of candy,
I’d watch from my round lollipop window tinted raspberry red as the flakes of icing settle over the quaint roofs lined with multi-colored gumdrops,
and I’d bound out the door to glance in awe at the white trimmed cottages and roads and trees, laughing as I crudely mold a sticky icing-man out of the gooey heaps.
Oh, if the world was made of candy,
goodness would be everywhere,
from the evening skies dotted with cotton-pink clouds to the flickering fireplace smelling of s'mores and more and more and more until both the plump stomachs and the ever-growing hearts would be full and a sort of satisfied aura would hang over all,
like the glistening skittle stars playing guard to the the round marshmallow moon.
They say too much sugar always spoils but if the world was made of candy,
sweet would never turn to sour,
joyful and giddy would never turn to dour,
and, no matter what, kindness and love would never, ever cease to flower,
if the world was made of candy
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