Today’s prompt: Use “beautiful dreamer” in a piece of poetry or prose
They call me a daydreamer, a person who still believes in fairy tales and the shiny unicorn riding through the enchanted forests. The one who still believes in the tooth fairy and Santa clause dispensing gifts for good deeds done through the purest of the heart. Don’t the pure and kind souls deserve recognition? I ask with my eyes sparkling with a million more questions. The naivety and the purity of the soul, the incessant questions like a babbling brook; my mind never stops thinking. It forms questions and shapes out of the soft fluffy clouds in the skies or looks for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow after a heavy downpour. This feverish want never ends, this curiosity never dies. There has to be a perfect utopia where mankind will realize one day, the kindness in souls, and the magic in a tight warm hug. They all live in an illusion of everything happening by itself not making an iota of change. They smile and call me a beautiful dreamer, instead.