I float through the starry night sky,
To a land of ogres and giants,
Of kings and queens.
This place is one where a little girl’s dream
Morphs and spins and weaves
Into a grown woman’s fantasy.
At the first touch of the surface
Of a shining, silver cloud,
My back sprouts wings and I no longer need
Pixie dust to fly.
Now, I do not float aimlessly above the trees,
No, I flit down to earth
Down to touch my little pink slippers to the dirt.
But this is not just any dirt.
This is the stuff of magic;
It grows vast bean sprouts and talking flowers.
It allows a home for all that is
Wild and crazy and wonderful and perfect.
Here, in this fairytale realm,
Two worlds collide.
One, in my waking reality,
And one
In my nightly dreams.
Musings: 