My childhood is over

gone with the wind

carrying innocence in its embrace

never to be seen again.

Now I debate if my beauty will swim

in an endless stream of faces,

if the water will lightly carry me

or drown me when I wake.

I used to get my toes dirty

inches deep in the earth,

no worries on my hands

but to win the next race,

now I wonder if my hands

are strong enough to carry

all this dirt.

Will I throw it in the stream?

let it sink while I dream?

wishing I had hugged myself a little harder

since I loved my arms and hands back then.

All those days of innocence

I can only dream of by a stream,

whisking its water with all the dirt

and faces that follow me,

until I can begin again.