6 Years Old and Wondering
Oh my- I hold myself growing,
They said it would happen,
But it seemed but a myth,
Six years old, wondering about the day I would be older,
Remembering behind the school shed- carving our names into the wood,
With a seagull feather tip- 'Jem 6 and a half years old'
All those days I played with the Barbie dolls,
She seemed so grown up, so curvy with long hair,
With long fingernails,
And today, as I brush those curves- which are mine, and brush my hair,
I am those things I once dreamed of,
But is it as spectacular as I thought?
Is being an adult really what I wanted?
Because now I'm here... well almost.
And now all I want is to be back there,
Six years old, behind the school shed carving our names into the wood,
My mind sloshed with all the dreams I had as a child,
With my long fingernails, I brush the shed 's long ago words:
'Jem 6 and a half years old'
I've lost many, but gained even more,
And whilst I stand on on tip of my journey of adolescence, I whisper:
'Oh look out world... the games have only just begun...'
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