I am the child who ran barefoot in the grass,

Believing the world was endless.

I wonder if the days were really longer,

Or if it was just my heart that made them feel that way.

I hear the laughter of kids chasing fireflies,

A sound that echoes in my memories.

I see my old backyard, small but magical,

Where sticks became swords and dreams had no limits. 

I want to hold on to that feeling,

The freedom of being a kid without worries.

I am the scraped knees and dirt-streaked cheeks,

The messy hair of someone who didn’t care.

I pretend I was brave when the world felt big,

But sometimes I hid behind closed doors.

I feel the warmth of summer nights,

And the sting of lessons learned too young.

I touch the old swing set in my mind,

Rusty chains that still carried me high.

I worry I’ve lost the magic I once believed in

But maybe it’s just hidden,

Waiting for me to find it.

I cry for the kid who thought growing up was easy,

Who didn’t see the cracks adults carried.

I am still that child, deep down,

Dreaming of who I could be. 

I dream of shooting stars lighting up the night,

Of bike rides and endless skies.

I try to keep the wonder alive,

Even when the world feels heavy. 

I hope I never forget where I came from,

The small world that felt so big.

I am my childhood, the roots of who I am,

Still growing, still searching, still me.