It’s hard to picture a world without dragons.

Of course, you don’t see them when you look out your window,

But you do see flames in your backyard grill that look like their breath.

The birds that fly through your skies have elegant wings,

That, in your dreams, grow as big as giants.

Sometimes, you can hear their songs,

And they sound like the cries of an elegant monster.

Your songs are always about the same things.

The sword in the stone, the treasure, the dragon.

If it hadn’t been a dragon, it would have been something else,

Because you know the fire, and the birds,

And you know that you’re a dreamer.

Every day you sing your song, and every day you add more words.

Sometimes you even sing yourself to sleep,

Beginning like this:

“When the day ends, we seem to dream of flight,

And we ride our dragons, so majestic, through the night.”