𝙸𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍

Within the vault of flesh and bone,

A whisper lingers, not quite grown—

The barefoot spirit, young and wild,

Suppressed spark of inner child.

*

She builds sand castles in soil,

Never touched by reality's broil.

She wears the sea upon her skin,

And calls the shells her kin.

*

While reason walks a measured path,

And scars are given through life's changing wrath,

She runs down roads unknown,

Unknowing of the need to slow.

*

She speaks with words that have no sense,

In her inconstant language, no grammar or tense

She thinks that love is round,

A shape where edges can’t be found.

*

She waits, unbound by years,

Unmoved by shame, untouched by fears.

Looking up to girl she'll grow up to be,

Mature and fulfilled, the face she'll never see.

*

Her play gives way for immaturity

Innocence's apex, the pulse of purity

So meet her under nostalgic skies,

And gaze once more with ageless eyes.