Make-believe a charming game we played as children.
It could start with just a word,
Such an enchanting word that we'd sing for miles and miles.
But now as years pass by silently and graciously,
We are lost in stern passages which lead to nowhere.
Life can not be defined by hard facts.
In fact, life can only be defined by the stories we tell,
The air we breathe in open spaces where the sun trickles down,
The stars we've travelled by and laid under many nights.
Make-believe banished and resided to pages of a book.
But as my eyes wander over the pages,
On the pages the words seemed like tiny footprints.
I don't want the stories and tales that live in books to fade.
I want to visit other worlds and shake hands with aliens,
I want to battle evil villains and marry my prince.
The words of make-believe are impossibly entrancing.
But sooner or later, the stern facts crawl back.
I close my book, hoping to one day jump inside its pages,
Live out my dreams and when a small child reads my adventures that they want to climb in too.
Because when you close a book, the story never stops it carries on,
With secret adventures of make-believe…