We are children in a field of dreams.

 

Waiting.

 

Watching.

 

The floating dreams above us wait.

 

We watch.

 

The floating dreams are always just out of reach,

 

since we are just blades of grass in the field.

 

We cannot reach that high.

 

Some of us are taller, though.

 

They are closer.

 

The majority of us are shorter.

 

We are further.

 

Further from the dreams we want to hold.

 

Now we're just

 

waiting.

 

Watching.

 

The floating dreams above us are watching.

 

While we wait.

 

It makes sense, though.

 

Dreams are dreams, watching us while we wait.

 

 

 

 

Because dreams are something you can only dream of.