Young Enough
These words come out of my pen
and I remember when
I was young enough to believe
that the world just might
stop turning
the stars just might
start falling
if I could just capture this feeling
on this cold, white page.
When I was young enough to believe
that I could make a happy ending
to this tale
if I wrote about it
the right number of times
that everyone was interested in
a young girl's
heartsick rhymes
when I was young enough to believe
that magic really existed
and that life was more than some
sick rat's maze
without any cheese at the end.
These words come out of my pen
and I try to comprehend
just how I got this grown-up
how I ever got to meet my pals
cynicism and jaded laughter.
For that young girl of hardly more
than one year's worth
of long ago
doesn't live here anymore
I've lost those bright-colored gel pens
she used to write those
hopeful dreamings
she'll make an appearance with
sunscreen and hot dogs
but more often than not
I can remember when
and I can try to comprehend
but these words that come out of my pen
aren't even a residual echo of
when I was young enough to believe
that my words really mattered.
Copyright © Allison Kinzy | Year Posted 2007
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