Playing Grownup

The blazing star streaks across the sky
Life Stirring,
Soft-skin wrapped limbs
Reaching for the light
The clock strikes 12 and time begins

A red ball chewed by the dog who rests
under the age-worn willow tree,
Raggedy Ann forgotten in the dust caked crib.
Shadowed memories of children
Playing,
playing grownup
But no one's playing now.

Years fly by,
Hours pass
Knees run red, cheeks are wet.
Reaching for your mother's hand
Pulled up by apron strings

Honor role
Insomnia
Pressures leaving young thoughts
Scattered
The clock strikes six
Chasing the past, catching the future
Stuck on a never-ending ferris wheel
Scraped hands, filled with gravel
Reaching out and grabbing air

Time slows down,
The clock strikes 12
Young adults lost in plain sight,
Too old to run
Too young to fly.
Now we're all just playing,
Playing grownup

Raising up
But not alone
Flesh hits ground,
But not your own.
Reaching out, hand grabs hand
Reaching up, you help them stand

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741