Red cheeks and all that fume

Sometimes you stand and gather yourself,
And see the greatness scattered around, wasted,
And try to make a meaning out of the chaos,
That you have left behind.

Sometimes you remember to dream,
And they come back to you, your little angels,
Who look upon you with a smile,
And make you blush.

You know you look best when your cheeks are red,
And your ears give away fumes,
And the pulses, they run faster than ever,
In a mad rush that fills you soon.

But then you chase the fireflies away,
You know you’ve grown tall,
And thus you end it in your dreams,
The one dream to be small.