A/N: Weird day, weird poem. This is for every person, who, like me, can never grow up enough to stop believing in Santa Claus, Peter Pan, and Neverneverland. ^^

CastleS IN ThE AiR

Look up, daydream believer, and tell me what you see

Beneath that great expanse of sky and endless canopy:

Can you see that rainbow stretch itself – a kaleidoscope on clouds

And those pots of wealth on both its ends filled with golden mounds?

Do you hear that unearthly phoenix song trying to reach out

And gently touch and heal the wounds of old Scrooge's bitter heart?

Can you feel how all his anger and "bah, humbug" 's melt away

As surely as the ice caps thawed in the mountains where they lay?

Will you deign to sing for me the maudlin melody of life –

Fleeting, unchecked, forever coursing through time?

Will you shower me with tales of an old romantic's dreams –

Of princes, adventure, and classic magic themes?

Ah, daydream believer, but the things we often see

Are sadly only visions apparent to you and me

We hide behind our books and thus, we do conceive

Figments that lie between truth and make-believe.

Within we exist in our own deep, secret lairs

No less than monarchs of our castles in the air,

We hope; we wish; we crave; we thirst; we weave;

Immersed with our yearnings in the somber land of sleep.

So go on, daydream believer, paint the heavens with your brush

Capture the elusive moment of the sun's first dawning blush,

For a world so sorely cynical needs some magic of its own

Dream for all, daydream believer, let your fantasies be known…

F/N: (Disclaimer?) The title was from Alcott's book, "Little Women" – just thought I'd cite it to avoid any unnecessary…um, blah. Thanks for reading, btw!