When I was seven I wrote my biggest dream on a tiny slip of paper
and sent it up to heaven.
Watched the words glitter in its rosy pink colour
as I folded it up, placed it in a yellow balloon,
and let it fly from my fingers – like a second sun rising in the sky,
watching, waiting, until it vanished from my eyes.
Now ten years later the dream remains,
Clear, bright; it's still the same,
Imprinted in my memory, footprints that never fade.
Yet it seems farther than ever, faded into a dot
so I can barely see it, like the balloon I sent away.
Still the resolve is in me, and I know my dream is strong -
And every time I think of it now I remember how:

When I was seven I wrote my biggest dream on a tiny slip of paper
and sent it up to heaven.

A/N: don't give up on your dreams, folks.