seven knew nineteen

I climb up the tree to reach Saturn so freely. The moon is singing, stars are dancing — while your window keeps on glancing. Soaring this high, ladders can’t fly. Feet on the clouds, weight is just a sound. I’d like to see through my seven-year-old eyes: “Life’s good — like a goodnight kiss.” Constellations in your mind intertwine with dreams I’ve missed. Shoot to the heart, aim for the sun — if the moon goes dark, let the arrow run. And just then… balloons rise, touching the sky. In my old life, joy might’ve been nigh — if the modern sky let the past pass by, I could’ve worn a smile, at last.