Freedom to Dream

The moon fell through the window that night and left a silver trail that we
Followed into the glowing light with a childish sort of glee
And the stars were made of glitter and the sky was painted gray
And none of the fruit was bitter on the path where we did play
And we climbed the mountain up into the clouds of cotton white
And we rested on a small outcrop, looking out over the night
And the lights of the tiny hamlet were so small and far below
That our tiny eyes were glistening wet, although we didn't know
And we raised our hands in chorus to the sky that hung above
And our lives rolled out before us and all we felt was love
And we took the smallest children and we held them by the hand
And the girls became strong women and each boy became a man
So that when we descended from our trek of childhood,
Our simple lives had ended and we knew not where we stood
But we knew to follow each other as we traveled to our homes
And we called our neighbors "brother" and we carved a little stone
With a picture of the night and the children on the hill,
Lit with a glorious light while the world seemed to stand still
And an inscription as a token for all whom this stone have read:
"Always leave the window open when you tuck your child in bed."