A little girl

Becomes a young lady;

Curiosity lost and,

Dreading each new horizon.

Eager to be somebody else.

Fragmented between decisions

Grafting on to one last;

Hope.

I suppose she has to learn to let go.

Just to “go about”.

Knocking on the door of lost time;

Late for her own tea party,

Mourning that stuffed animal that’s no longer hers.

Not even she could forget.

Observant of how much she has grown.

People told her not to blink;

Quickly she found out why.

Reaping memories into her arms.

Sad to see the seams unravel.

Tired, she goes;

Under the covers, tucked in tight.

Vacant to the;

Warmth.

X-rayed moments from the past;

Years replayed back.

Zipping them back up, buried in the closet of her mind.