When you were ten the world seemed so gigantic
you reached for the moon before bed each night
It beamed, as if smiling back at you
As if it was pleased to meet you
at the same time each evening
Your back felt heavy with wings
of flight you longed to take off from
looking at the clocks weary minutes,
the calendars forever months
life was safe inside a sleeping bag , near the steps of the forest you called the back yard.
Sometimes you would whisper secrets to the stars,
knowing no one in particular would answer back,
Relieved knowing no one in particular could hear you.