They call her a dreamer.
She prefers day-dream believer.
Her heads always in the clouds,
Yet her feet remain planted down here on the ground.
Others can’t see what comes to life inside of her mind’s eye,
Entire worlds and her very own castle in the sky.
She sees better in the dark, and often while she sleeps.
Blame it on photographic memory or a vivid imagination,
She’s always danced to the beat of her own drum.
Magic lingers long after she leaves,
Holding her own peace at her core, she will always be free.
There is no desire to fit into places her heart knows she does not belong.
You never know what’s behind that enchanted smile,
What a lovely thing indeed.
To be a believer, a seer,
A dreamer.
Building castles in the sky.
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