The tramp looked up at the sky,
Dreaming of the clouds, hoping to fly.
Right then he noticed a shooting star,
With a blinking tail, like God’s own car.
He began to follow God’s promise
With an epiphany, he felt destiny’s kiss.
A delirium tremens he entered, pranced with the sun,
His ears bellowed with heavenly surges, all was said and done.
Never had the mighty clouds, been so easily ushered and caressed to exhibit a perfect pattern,
Never before had the mountains, insurmountable, that only people had dreamt to scale, glistened before the sun like a lantern.
A view so delirious, could only be so cinematic, he wondered,
An intercourse of the sky’s horizon and the city lights was resplendent, he concurred.
And just when it seemed he would never be the same again,
His dream ended, and landed, God’s gift to mankind , the airplane.
It is never too late to dream, to scrape the skies for glory, to be an airplane. Wait not for shooting stars.
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