This poem probably makes no sense.
A world of icicles with no demise
Adventure on slopes with a slip and a slide
A cosmic beam multicoloured with surprise
Granting the occupants a place to hide
A tree of comfort brown in appearance
A worldwide book with little meaning
The transformation compels interference
On a poetic rhyme I find myself leaning
Because life shows reality when and how at will
But dreams pull you back to individuality
Our minds are leaky cups, hard to fill
Refreshing our urge to play defines vitality
Give me a swing or a boat setting sail
The pictures in our house show what could be
A dream takes away the fear to fail
Releases the desire to courageously be free
Bobbing alone our imaginative world
Searching for adventure and new found wonder
Treasure hunters, no, just a boy and a girl
Sky high swoops and sea diving under
So we escape to our stories and rhymes
And focus on fun like we used to
Climbing volcanoes and swinging through vines
At the top of the mountain will be me and you..
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