I know you feel me
galloping around in your heart,
’tis me, that little child,
still finger painting art!
I know you hear me
when I tickle your ear,
“Hey, Mr. Grown Up,
you’re still my favorite Crayon engineer!”
I know you see me
when you look to the sky.
Remember us collecting the stars,
and when we first learned to fly?
I know you taste me,
when the snowflake dissolves on your tongue.
The feeling ripples through you,
the flavor of “young.”
Oh, Mr. Grown up,
who cares what they say.
Let’s frolic about freely,
lets go out and play.
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brings back the memory of Running from Safety by Richard Bach….and his misadventures with his child self dickie…good write…
sweet oh sweet