The Dreamer

There once was a little boy

Who so loved to read,

But his fledgling life

Was boring to lead.

The books that he found,

The stories he heard,

All transported him

To some other world.

New people, he met.

On adventures, he set,

To make a fantasy

From his reality.

His dull walls of grey,

Blue, black, white, and brown,

All caused this small boy

To constantly frown.

But these new worlds of his

Were as bright as could be;

Reds, yellows, and orange,

Were all he could see.

With so many new dreams,

He couldn’t help but say

With a smile on his face,

“I’ll do that one day.”

As the boy grew older,

He dreamed a new dream;

That the books which HE wrote

On the store shelves, would gleam.

He put pen to paper

And let everything out;

From the love to the heartache

And the fear of his doubt.

It all came so natural,

Like a bird flying high.

His goal had been set,

The limit – the sky.

Little has this world

Been able to see:

That once-little boy

Has grown into me.