Hearty letter to the mind which always denies the line
That we never actually grow up,
But In the public we just put a show up.
Dear Mind Would you mind?
If I went to the fields to play with the dragon flies,
If I made paper boats only to set them on an endless race,
If I screamed to the top of my voice,
That I want to take home with me all the butterflies.
Would you really mind If I fell and hurt my elbows,
While I wish to run across these amethyst meadows,
And left food with a winky note at the rabbit burrows.
Did I really get that big From being a notorious twig,
To dreading the fact that I am growing into an old gig.
Through out the day I sit and ponder
If growing up is any big wonder.
I wonder why being stupid now is a big blunder
At the age of tender It was such a cute splendor.
To the sky where there is no bias of gender
With the blanket of stars I want to surrender .
Leaving behind the brat in me who does not want to mold,
My heart I never want to hold.
Meanwhile Brain knocks the backdoor of the heart.
Moron! You are such a misfit into the wordily slot.
All the heart did was being a tiny tot.