It may be silly
the things we think.
Sometimes-- I wonder
if my mind's gone brink.
You see, on summers day
my thoughts stray.
I wish sometime, oh I do,
if only to dance, and
fly with the birds to coo.
I'd dance on tree tops
all around the town.
I'd gently caress all those
far off top leaves, and whistle
along, with sweet birds sounds.
I'd jump tree top to tree top
bouncing off-- one, two,
then laughing loud on--three.
I'd nestle in the shade's flow,
upon the branches far below.
I'd nap in the shades bliss
till the moon came out
and would-- at me, hiss.
Then I'd gently rub my eyes, and
watch stars smile as they'd float by,
while on cool branches I'd lay.
As the crickets sing me to sleep.
I'd imagine-- star to star I'd leap.
I'd snooze away the night,
till the suns first light.
Then I'd dance an dance again
upon the tree tops oh so high.
And then-- I'd spring to the clouds.
I'd cuddle up in its soft whiteness.
I'd blow bubbles with my lips, while
laughing at the blue sky.
And then-- I'd look to the ground,
without a sound, and gently sigh.
I'd feel light as a feather too
I'd feel sparkling, as summers dew.
Oh and if I was ever an angel-- or allowed,
I'd dance only on the whitest clouds.
The big fluffy ones, like floating cotton
I'd sing a sweetest angel's song
and fly with all the fire flies among
the fresh mowed lawns.... all night long.
Linda Bates Terrell
Written © July 13, 2013