Child (Poem)

She’s five years old, 
with shiny, white teeth visible to the world 
and grimy little hands, coated in paint. 

The sun peaks over the horizon 
like a newborn kitten 
opening its eyes. 

She wears a sunflower yellow dress 
that brushes against her knees 
and her mother ties her hair 
into two near pigtails. 

She prances into her classroom 
and plops onto a chair without much grace. 

She frets over using the wrong crayon,
cries over the boy who gave her cooties,
whines about the spelling test she had two days ago (cat, bat, sat)

She complains about being a child,
She wants to grow up
As soon as possible.

And suddenly,
She’s seventeen years old.
The crayons are gone
So are the cooties
And sometimes
Just sometimes

She wishes she could be a child again.