The phone sits on the little green chair
Blasting the same song repeatedly
Everyday of the year
Each time telling a new story.
Two planks of wood are suspended
From the trees high above
Where the metal groans until it breaks
And then the other stops collecting dust.
Wind flies through the girl's neat hair
And tangles it into knots
As she flies higher and higher
On her wooden swing.
Rain or shine she heads out
And the music always plays
And the dogs always growl
And the schemes are always hatched.
Day and night she soars
Through the air as she plans her future
So that it's brighter than the Northern Star
Though deep down she knows she'll never go half as far.
Something about that place is magical
Because the girl becomes whatever she wants
And she always has her perfect world
Embeded within hundreds of plots that would out-sell Agatha Christie.
She used to pace
When she dared to dream like this
Walking the same loop everyday
Always with the same purpose.
Every human can walk
So maybe flying through the woods
Takes her farther and farther away
Into a Nirvana existent only in one teen's mind.
Someday the swing won't move
And the music won't play
And the girl will stop dreaming
And the real world will strike with vengeance.
But that day is still far off
So let that girl keep dreaming
Because we all deserve to have that burning hope
Survive for every moment possible.