Soaring through the sky on silent wings,
Thinking of magic and whimsical things.
Sailing through a cloud, cool and sweet,
Listening to the music’s strong beat.
Landing on the grass still wet with dew,
One of the lucky and privileged few.
Far away from the city’s sickening air,
Few humans have ever been there.
I huddle close to the stars so bright,
Giving my journey home a soft light.
And as I wake all things start to seem,
Beautiful, and not in the least obscene.
Yet all I can think about as the rain pings,
Is soaring through the sky on silent wings.