It flies high, way up in the clouds
It swings low, on the branches of trees
It grows up, like vines on a house
It dangles and jingles, like groups of keys
It dives down deep, it floats at the surface
It crawls with the animals in the wild
It wrestles with the wind, gives the breeze a kiss
It runs around and plays with a child
It holds on tight, like a clippy in your hair
It lets you go, like wet hands on a glass
It sings to you each morning, getting you through the day on a dare
It dances through your mind, the present, the past
What is it, you may ask?
What could do all of these things?
It can disguise anything, like a strange mask.
It's a dream, it's a dream, like a bells that rings
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