DreamChild

Dreamchild

 

Dreamchild

        dream,

            child,

your golden streaming hair aflame

floats wind-borne back

over the air

in blazing wisps

of flying carelessness

And you, always

         all

                    ways

running, never stopping,

your feet off the ground,

you do not worry that we

cannot follow in your airsteps

Nor do you cease to fly

because we cannot see

the goal you sense

Somewhere