My Imagination

My head is full of thoughts,

But none of them I can see;

So I go to my backyard

Where my ideas do roam free.

From creatures unknown,

That only I know to be,

To people and faces,

Both real, and make believe.

My hopes and fears

Dance on a pond of almost true,

And the trees grow tall on wonder,

Fed by a sky that is always blue.

Alone I do sit,

On a bench of flowery scent,

Observing this all,

All these things I do invent.

But then I hear a call,

For the house it did come,

To return to its walls,

To face reality, not run.

So I leave my backyard,

My fountain of youth,

And enter the house

To face its truth.