Keep Your Head in the Clouds

said father, lightly turning up and east,
"If people scuff your dreams don't mind their tone,
It's these good folks who live in monochrome;
Their days are dim, their nights are dirty greased,
Your head is better in the clouds and breeze.
'Come down! Come down!' they'll cry, 'So high? Alone?
come slowly, slowly down, take care, your bones!
and why, for what would one of ground take leave?'
Oh please... Come down? Come down! Good heavens, why?
'To live on soil is safer than on mist.'
What harm have cloudtops brushed in half moon's light?
'The lightening devil strikes a hot white fist.'
This, no. His static tickles and makes bright.
These wings aren't wax, no chain lingers my wrist.