I remember

my mother told me

to remove my head from the

clouds,

and i don't think she meant me

any malice but i could not

do that;

the clouds danced like my

dreams and gave me the hope

that i could drift into a sky

meant for me—

i was a wendy darling

or alice in wonderland born

into a world without

march hares or peter pans,

and i don't always know

the way to getting back home

but i trust my soul;

for she know my magic and my truth—

i know some people have

forgotten how to sail through the

stars,

but i am not my mother;

i remember