Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Won't you let me grow? (II)

You never let me play by the river after that day. You never swim or climb. You wouldn't let me go riding with the others or go camping in the woods. You wouldn't let me ride the bus or stay after school to play games. It was always too hot to go outside or too cold, too wet. When my friends would come over we had to stay inside and stare at a screen. Soon they stopped coming and just watched them from the window.

The moon has grown older now and looks cold and distant.
That man who used to take me to the park hasn't been here in such a long time. I remember how he made you smile. I remember he wanted me to have a brother and sister. I remember how you fought. I knew how sad you felt. I could see it in your eyes. So I decided to stay with you, I stopped asking to go explore the world and eventually, the desire faded.

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