is a little girl
who wishes to be exactly that.
If only she could remember,
physically, her exact age,
the way her brain can recall
all her old birthdays.
She wishes age where something
muscles could remember,
if muscles could do math.
Although, they do feel something
as they grow older, and weaker,
and tired for anything else.

But, she wishes her body
knew exactly her young age
so she didn’t have to remind herself
of how young she was,
or how young she should feel.

That way, tomorrow, when she tells someone new
she won’t feel so strange,
out of her skin,
her bones seeming small and slippery
between her muscles, too young
to be weak, or tired, or old.

And then maybe, tomorrow,
it won’t hit her, like a ton
of freshly baked bricks
ready for masonry
that she is so terribly young
and that she has so very much life
left to sort through.

And then she thinks
maybe it isn’t so bad to pretend
she’s a little older, if only
to forget she has so much to do.

11/30/2008

Author's Note: Another little self-portrait. The first one is blatantly about personality, this one so blatantly about ignorance and how I can't seem to remember that it's a good thing I have so much life to live. It isn't all that good, but I am tired, and it came to me pretty quickly.

Posted on 11/30/2008
Copyright © 2010 Rachel C Johnson