I might grow
might get up and go to face
what the future has in store.
But what if it’s not more than what I desire?
what if that future fire is cold and I get old before it’s lit
what if bit by bit I dissolve
revolving around my own axis
and as far as I know you don’t get to practice
growing up.

I might not grow but again as far as I know I won’t get a choice, it’s written in ink upon the list of wishes and dreams but somebody missed off my surname and gave a lame excuse that I’d be no use as a man.
can you believe it?
As if I’m already evolving into another bit bit bit
but I sit in the bedroom or lay on my bed with the thoughts of growing up going around in my head
and it scares me.
that which cannot be seen,already dreamt of in a forgotten dream and I feel as if I’ve been there before
but that can’t possibly be because I cannot see any more than today where I sit or I lay and I think.
In the blink of an eye and as time rushes on by
I have asked myself over and over again the same question ,why?
When the dew of the morning has cried out of the sky and the birds are all chirping and go about working the fields for their food
and I, semi nude decide to get dressed.
I am always impressed with the way life goes on
whenever I feel something’s wrong it is right
I might grow up some day or tonight
and if something just is
then just might
is another thing wrong
but it’s right.

copyright © John Smallshaw all rights reserved

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