When children dream,

When children dream, When children drop off to dream, silently sailing on a shallowed stream. Primrose petals perforating patterned banks, playing keek boo with a soft summer sun. and imagining only of the best. arsenals of aromatic airways, siphoning, only syrup scented sighings. Special splotted splendour splashes about lively little lashes. Dreaming on delightfully delirious, as dragons delve and dive. Flying furiously about a purple planet. firing flames upon their breath, and heating the ovens, and so baking the giants bread. The guardians stand solidly at the entrance, and whispering quietly bye the bye. They know the giant lives outside the dream, and any sound could awaken fresh troubles. As with darkness creeps a child’s mind, imaging all things crunchy and kind. Are we not but children still, but older, and with a live less strict, be much bolder. And slay our own dragons, that be, and then our childish selves, set free.