Throwback poem. Dreams.

Dreams as high as balloons
are what root us down.
Dreams as wild as a tiger
are what keep us calm.
Dreams as fantastical as a fairytale
are what make us real.
Dreams as big as the sky
are what give us hope
keeping our necks craned,
eyes open and hands dirty.
Because you’ll have dreams little one,
Dreams of the future,
of the present about to slip away,
Dreams of what the past could’ve been.
Your heart will grow with every
Dream, wish and whisper
until it feels like it might explode
and float away into the sky
for all to see.
But with that tiny fist
you’ll hold fast
and those wishes of yours
won’t slip away
until they aren’t wishes
anymore.
Oh, those dreams won’t be carried with the wind
until they become
a life, a reality,
a dream to call your own.