Childhood Poem by Katerina Richmond

There was a girl, a very little lass.
She wore nothing but her pretty white dress.
She would climb trees, and take naps in the grass.
She had little but was happy, careless.

She was pure. Filth never stuck to her skin.
She was never found hungry, thirsty, weak.
She wouldn’t know if she was wide nor thin.
Her cheeks had color. Never pale nor bleak.

She tires of not being here by my side.
Yet she calmly awaits me and her friend.
She is not sure if she has really died.
She wonders if this is really the end.

I tell her she will come back, for she should.
I gave her a name. I call her childhood.