Toddle run stomp in a fizzy giggle burst
Through the gates. I field dreams of flight.
I know each small hand that picks me first –
Clings my strings, pumps with tiny might.
Some mums join in, aiming to achieve
Lost ribbons of twin-plaited aviation
My wire skeleton frames what they believe:
Woolly hat heads to an unseen constellation.
I only hear cries when it’s time to go home
For they’ve hitched their bright star to my wagon
They gain time and mine runs out now they’ve grown
From their shared dream; a lost magic dragon.
The salt squeak of chains tell tales on my fears
Keep me in play and betray my own tears.
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