The Child In Me

by Willow

A child stands in tattered clothes
with dirty face and runny nose
reaching a grubby, timid hand
into your heart.

Erratic. Chaotic.
Neurotic.

She loses her keys
and her car;
stays up late and drinks too much;
tells you the stories you already know;
often goes where she least wants to go.

Playing hide and seek with truth,
she wants to run and hide sometimes
from a certain cool flicker imagined
in your eyes…

Maybe you love the woman in me:
who sits composed; speaks
articulately,
and hides away the wanton child,
to a prison of reason she is exiled
where she kicks her feet
and bangs the wall;
Could you love the child in me
at all?

©Willow Rose 2011

5 thoughts on “The Child In Me by Willow Rose

  1. Portia Burton

    wonderful poem! ”Prison of reason’…yes,so true! Many a times I feel constrained by imposede ‘reason’ and ‘rationality’.So I live out the child in me in my paintings with full abandon! its really bad to grow up. you are always under the scanner.
    -Portia Burton

    • Adriene you are always so on target; you hit the mark each time you interpret what I am expressing and trying to convey in my poetry. Thank you for reading and commenting; it is especially meaningfull when the poem is as deeply personal as this one. love and light, willow


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