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.