When I was little,
Behind the backyard of my childhood home,
Separated by a field and a couple of rows of trees,
There was a factory,
Not a big one, just a small one,
That liked to operate at night.
The window of my old bedroom faced out  towards the backyard,
And by extension,
The factory.

I use to lie awake at night,
After I crept over to my window and pushed it as open as it would go,
I'd just listen to the sounds of the factory,
And imagine it were different things,

When I was 6 I'd imagine it was some sort of 100 foot tall beast of mystery,
Maybe walking on 6 legs, each 75 feet long,
Lumbering nearby like a gentle giant,
When I was 10,
It was a spaceship,
Destined to take me to a galaxy far, far away,
When I was 13,
It was a crowd cheering me on as I scored a touchdown.

It was relaxing,
It was southing,
Familiar and safe.

But one day the banging and muffled crashes of steel stopped,
Apparently the city finally cited the factory for noise violations,
And all heavy operations were to be halted by 8 pm.

I suddenly no longer had my monster behind the house,
No spaceship to take me to a galaxy far, far away,
No crowd cheering my name.

From here on out I'd have to go exploring to find monsters,
I'd have to build a spaceship if I wanted to go far, far away,
I'd have to put in the work so people would cheer out my name.