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