I am a dreamer and an optimist.

Sight full of colours and visions vibrating with pleasure.

I open up the pages of old musty books

and see the dead butterflies flutter away

faded rainbows riding the sun beams.

I push open the windows of memories

and bask in the warmth of love.

I am a dreamer and an optimist.

The glasses always seem half filled to me

and darkness sighs with the promise of light.

I caress dead birds in my old hands

and see them flying away over the horizon

warm life beating in their tiny hearts.

I travel new paths of the forbidden forests

and feel the spirit of adventure excite me.

I am a dreamer and an optimist.

But dreams are figments of imagination,

and optimism, a seductive prelude to bitter reality.

Colours fade quickly and pleasures wither away,

The wings of dead butterflies never flutter and old love is too cold.

The glasses are always half empty and darkness always lonely.

Dead birds never fly and forbidden pleasures become sins.

Yet I remain a dreamer and an optimist.