Myriads; beams of colour and light encircle the sky above.
She stares upwards; wonders what makes such beauty come to life.
Birds swoop in and out of her dreams
Gracefully; elegantly; so flawlessly;
They caress her mind; encourage her to find the subject of their entirety.
Her arms held high, she tries to fly; she fails, and fails again.
A swan soars high above her; takes pity, and frees her spirit.
Up, and out of her cocoon of dreams,
The little girl floats. It seems that - really? Can it be true?
She has grown a pair of wings.
She mingles with the parakeets - and pigeons, and mute swans.
She converses with the nightingales
And debates with the ones
Who do not have the pleasure of
A nest of feathers soft.
She smiles and laughs and chatters away; her home seems to be here.
But soon the story ends, and then the time comes to tell her, 'Oh, my dear,
Your story is finished now,
Your bedtime is quite near.'
She protests at first, but soon you'll find
She's drifted back to her dreams.
A better place for us all to be;
Where our laughter will run in streams.
by Madeleine Jablonowska (11)
Independent Entry, London
Competition - Out Of This World
Copyright remains with the author.