When I was little

I thought the world was magical

Every car

Every skyscraper

Every bird in every tree

I was filled with fascination

When I was little

I would look up at those dusty stars

Filled with wonder

And reach my arm up towards the sky

To caress the tip with my pinky finger

The trees were my dancers

Swaying rhymically in the cool wind

The lily pads were my stepping stones

And the clouds were my pillows

Sunny days

Humid nights

Fresh maple syrup

Dripping down homemade pancakes

When I was little

I lived life at the edge of paradise

Only occasionally dipping my toes back into reality