I was a child dreamer, sitting, staring out windows, I wondered what trees would say if they could speak. I could hear them moan, and know they dreaded the pressure of the world.
The clouds would tell me what they wanted to be, when they got big and fluffy. The birds would sing to me, as if I were in a cartoon-land, all my own. I longed to escape, to the place beyond the play ground ball field and dreamed of waiting until everyone went inside. I thought about living among the trees, until school day was done, then join the group of leaving kids. No one ever knowing I had come or gone.
I would sometimes hide behind the tree at the far end of the playground; it was a favorite place of mine, I’d talk of my troubles with the wind, tell it math is hard, wish to know just as much as everyone else, only becoming frustrated when it ceased.
Yes, I was a child dreamer, my dreams coming to life for me. If you ever saw my eyes open large with wonder or me staring off into nowhere; I went on a journey inside my mind. So if you should come across a child dreamer, start with the trees; they still like to whisper to me.
I Was A Child Dreamer
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