Sits golden on the shoulders of the cows
Standing stoic on the green hill.
Black branches froth with blossoms,
Tiny new leaves sway on the willow tree,
Over the brightening pond.
...is not a bad thing to be. Many of us called daydreamers as children grew up to be poets, writers, artists. I celebrate daydreaming. It saved my mind as a child. Here are a few of my daydreams.