poetry

Growing Pains

Hold your hands up

To our eyes again,

Not thinking of the future,

Not living in past tense,

Not worrying what others thought;

Find adventure those eyes

Instead of pain.

 

Those bright, blue eyes.

 

I look everywhere for them;

For their innocence

Their bravery

Their magic.

Hold your hands up

To the sky again.

Let’s play on the swings,

Let’s play in those heads

Not yet shaped by the world.

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