so there’s this thing,

where adults think im a child

and children grab on to me

-sometimes quite literally.

and the adults aren’t wrong.

im small

and unsteady

and vulnerable

in a way i can’t seem to hide.

anymore…

and the children see one of them

i think,

or maybe they just know

i won’t hurt them

and that i still want to run

and play

and ill sit on the floor with them

and hold their sticky hands,

and laugh slightly louder

and hug just a bit tighter

and ill never make fun

cause like them

all i want

is just to be loved..

and maybe because

ive not been so fortunate,

i stay

and move slowly

and run

all at once,

forever frozen,

in time,

and now space

not my own,

waiting for those arms

to pull me in

and keep me

and hold me

just a bit tighter

than i ever thought comfortable,

but have come to desire

with all that i am..

but i picture those arms

and feel tinier than ever

knowing that im less

and disappearing more

with every day

in the wind

of willows fall.