You took at peek when I was two, I shaped the peek

when I turned three; and when the young girl wanted more,

she rode out waves and swam to four, until she found

that diner drive where she watched loud movies now at five;

and as parents ride away and kiss, she was wishing she was six,

just sitting back gliding to heaven– that land of kind and innocent

seven, until we jumped ahead a few, wishing for a life anew.

You realize one must not be so meek– because, my child,

I have yet to see you peak.

July 18, 2012


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