what happened to my dreams of flying?

there's no denying they were real enough.

In that sleeping realm

I passed the elm

and valley bound on wingless flight

my silence buoyed me up

to look down on the buttercup,

and as I willed it

landed with a maiden sigh

as levitating

the world passed by.

Of late my dreams go plodding on

no more magic to thrill my soul -

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