When I was young in my dreamland, I swam in pools of marshmallow creme, white and sweet.
I sat on bubblegum boulders, motionless like statues, and watched a lemon drop sun,
drooping carefully,
creeping behind chocolate mountain tops, granite and marble swirled giants, sleeping on the horizon.

When I was young in my dreamland, I sailed a ship into pirate bay,
I would sword fight with Davey Jones, salty and tense,
then board my ship once more,
to float, calmly and quietly,
away into the endless blue.

When I was young in my dreamland, I flew on dragon-back, hard and scaly,
to rescue the fair princess, fireballs, red hot cannon shots, flying,
smiting the evil trolls holding her hostage.

When I was young in my dreamland, my thoughts zipped in every direction.
I never wanted to watch t.v.,
or play games, colorful and diverse,
or even climb mountains and swim in oceans.
My dreamland was always enough.