Over me

I feel happy,

like I could dance,

even with no music,

in my head.

The days flowing out,

between my fingers,

on this winter,

in a spring of my soul.

I feel good,

like flying in my toughts,

all ordinated,

all rarely seem correct,

I am dreaming higher,

feel like now, living more.

It is, like magic,

but kinda of real,

in a ecstasy unknown,

for what I know,

for what I saw.

May this last again,

to feel once more,

the like of flying,

over a cloud,

bouncing,

no fears or sore,

just me being me,

over old toughts.