When I was a child,
I dreamt of what I could do.
I’d stand outside
On a clear spring afternoon,
Waiting to catch a butterfly on my
tongue.
I always wanted to catch a rainbow.
I’d sit on the floor,
Talking to inanimate objects,
Hoping they were actually listening.
I always wanted to advise a balloon.
I’d sit in front of the fireplace,
Consuming the warmth.
And be comforted by the crackling
sounds.
I always wanted to breathe fire.
Dreams are tricks,
That play on a child’s mind.
For one feels he or she can do no wrong.
One day I tested that theory out.
I wanted to know I could eat that bullet.
When I was a child,
I dreamt of what I could do.
But now I will never have those dreams
come true.
by Rachel Steinberg, ’09
