As I look out my window across the weaving corn
I am reminded of my first visit to alien worlds.
The dislocation took place at little school and continues.
Don’t worry, I am not aboard a wall clock staring at a lifeless me.
Though in some strange way I am.
You see, I daydream.
My ears still tune in to the conversation in the room
while the rest of me visits some beautiful astral plane.
I prefer this other world.
It is a place where no math, science or history exists,
Nothing to unravel. No twisted turns to negotiate.
No billowing clouds or heavenly music, no warm embrace.
Where everything is felt not seen.
Such is the value of daydreaming.