Remember the child who dreamed all the dreams
Wishing on stars, riding silver moonbeams
And though never really able to fly
He waited calmly and looked to the sky

He grew up a little bit day by day
Feeling worn out with nothing much to say
Yet still believing there would be a time
He could spread he wings and begin to climb

Older yet he battled pains of the heart
Twisting depression into paper art
But despite the box where he stuffed his fear
He preened his quills, hoping the clouds would clear

Later still, habits took much of his wit
Wasting his time in the obsession pit
His sight grew dim and he nearly lost hope
Synthetic flight is a sad way to cope

Now he is grown and a child no longer
Surviving the trials and feeling stronger
Flying still holds his curiosity
Dreaming to reach escape velocity

Feb. 2, 1997 D.P. Groberg