I’m not overly poetic. But, poetry is it’s own entire realm of writing, and since I strive to be a well rounded writer, I have taken a stab at it. Read at your own risk.
Baby. Soft, cuddly, cute.
Do you know how fast the years go?
Now in preschool, drawing on the walls.
Do you realize how soon you’ll be grown?
Elementary school daydreams, hopscotch, and hair bows.
Remember how soon grown up things come.
Junior higher. Awkward, lanky, four too many limbs.
Soon you’ll be tall, slender, and mature.
Now in high school, almost old.
Recollect times past, all these memories hold.
Remember the first day of school.
Moreover, remember the freedom of innocence,
and the bliss of young-ness.
Never forget that life is what you make it.
Make it worth it.