TVC Writing & Art

In dreams you can have one thing
be your everything.
But you must be a child
or at least childlike.
Every child wants to fly.
I’ve forgotten my flying dreams
but still remember the ones
where I hovered,
my back against the ceiling
even after I awoke.
The heavy yoke of sleep lifted
and my eyelids fought the weight of
lazy honey dreams.
And still I hovered above my bed,
my arms motionless wings.
Every child wants to fly,
and remembering is like dreaming –
nearly.