In dreams I wander through the fields of time,
Where skills and talents rest like fruits to pluck.
I reach for gifts that, plucked, would make me shine,
And weave a life with threads of fate and luck.
If tongues of nations rested on my lips,
Their secrets whispered softly in my ear,
The world would open, as a flower slips
From bud to bloom, and distant lands draw near.
Or if my fingers danced on strings and keys,
Creating melodies to soothe and mend,
Would not the world then sway with gentle ease,
As harmony and peace around us blend?
Yet dreams awaken in the heart of hope,
And in pursuit, new skills and joys shall cope.