the kid i once was
I was that kid,
barefoot on cracked sidewalks,
leaping over shadows,
chasing the sun without knowing it sets.
I was made, of scraped knees
and stories spun from nothing but air.
I had no map,
but I never needed one.
The world was a sandbox,
and I was its architect,
building castles from dreams,
sturdy with the strength of belief,
not yet crumbled by doubt.
I was careless,
but not in the way they warn you about.
I was carefree,
like the wind has no master,
like laughter has no leash.
I ran with it,
didn’t question the direction,
didn’t worry where it led.
Imagination was my kingdom,
where I ruled with crayons and chalk,
painting galaxies on walls,
inventing friends who never left.
I was a queen in a dress too big,
a superhero with a blanket cape,
sweet with innocence,
kind without cause.
I was that kid,
who smiled at the sky,
who saw monsters as misunderstood,
who saw life as something to be colored,
outside the lines,
because who needs them?
And now—
now I carry her with me.
In my pockets, a little piece of her light,
in my eyes, the spark she lit.
She made me,
from sticky fingers and big dreams,
from careless days and endless nights.
She is the echo in my laughter,
the reason I still see shapes in clouds,
the reason I believe in the impossible,
even now.
I was that kid,
and thanks to her,
I still am.
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