Beneath roaming white coulds of the morning time,
A boy can find his joy without costing him a dime.
He looks innocently at the coulds
Around which the golden lines are drawn
By the smiley shiny sun in the sky
Who kills darkness of the night
With his inspiring golden light.

The sumless clouds he sees in a glance
Make his naive heart happily dance
For what he sees are not just the clouds.

On that majestic sky,
A Beagle chases after the other one
Until catching the tail is done.
They combine into a plane flying to nowhere.

But the boy manages to think of the destination,
And he says his wishes to the plane.

Before the plane is gone into an enormous cloud,
He joyfully shouts out loud
"Yes! That must be the destination!"

-Kryde N.B. Richmond
  4/10/2013