She wakes up, her only thought is morning cartoons;

Years later, she wakes up, and it’s half-past noon.

She ties her sneakers with a picture of Dora on the side;

Years later, she buckles her sandals with a three-inch heel to stand high.

The years past seem to have been only a few days

But suddenly, she carries worries

And suddenly she’s in a hurry. 

She hurries to class, where she journeyed by herself.

She hurries to work for experience under her belt.

Suddenly, she’s older, and her knees have fewer scars.

Suddenly, her interest is her future and buying a car.

Seldom does she cry for attention, instead silently in bed.

Seldom does she wish for toys, but prosperity instead.

She’s older, more aware and afraid to fail.

She’s less naive, although sometimes hard to tell. 

Although she has grown in age, she must grow more.

Although she’s older, she learns lessons just like before.