On her very own sunbeam

As a child her imagination would open like pages from a book,
safari hunter to the worlds best cook.
Creating dishes of impossible food,
sweet or savoury, depending on her mood.
Moon dust sprinkled upon iced pink cake,
a click of a finger and all sorts she'd bake.

Journeys to the stars flying through space,
a super hero, saving the human race.
Wearing the crowns of queens or like a bride down the isle,
always within her heart she carried a smile.
It didnt matter why or where or who,
all she did was close her eye's and all came true.

A child with freckles and a button nose
a beautiful, carefree, innocent soul.
Creating worlds of once upon a time,
and her hand would write, line upon line.

This child's imagination was her place of calm,
a world of make believe, where she would be safe from harm.
Her big blue eyes would close and sparks would fly,
hello magical, colourful space, ugly world goodbye.

Landscapes would start to unfold,
and this childs mind would spin with stories to be told.
Her worlds were amazing, full of love and happiness.
Not noisy or cruel or full of mess.

Her characters came alive, with no rules or restrictions to hold her down,
She was a president, an astronaut, a colourful clown.
Creatures and people of every colour and size,
some completely brain free, others very wise.
Some how they could run while others could fly,
pink, purple or green, never asking why.

A place of excitement, adventure, a place to dream.

And all done while swinging on her very own sunbeam.