Monday, 6 September 2010
01:21:05 AM (GMT)
I was just thinking about how older teenagers (starting around fifteen or
sixteen) and young adults (and basically forever after that) keep a lot of things
pent up inside of them, and how there are things we wish we could pursue but we know
we can't, for reasons we can't exactly explain. This poem is about how everything is
so much easier when you're young, and the longing for innocence we experience as we
Note: I wrote this in fifteen minutes and it has gone through absolutely zero
revision. So please be gentle.
I'm seven and you're nine.
Already I've found a way to make you mine.
It's a quiet relationship between you and I,
but I like it. I don't even have to try.
You whisper "Let's waltz," and you smile at me.
I can't help but imagine everything we can be.
I'm shy and you're silly, but that's okay.
We vow it's way we're going to stay.
I don't have a problem calling you mine
because I'm seven and you're nine.