—the little girl—
A Poem
A dim hush
where light sways
Where flickers of sun
Scatter in the
Sunrise’s haze
A young woman is sat
on her worn tire swing,
The one that now—
fits snug around her hips.
Her tangled-brown hair
Catching the last light
From flickering street lamps
Beyond the trees.
Her feet resting the grass
As she reads,
Deep chocolate brown
Scanning the pages
With quiet intention.
She glides through pages
Where stories take her places,
Where she tries to study what to be.
She studies pages
Till the last streetlamp fades
Before tucking it nice
In her worn-leather satchel
With her mini gold key,
And her yellow beach towel.
She wanders downhill
Where pastel flowers dance,
where children
Squeal as they play,
running her fingers
along the small chains—
The ones where she would sit
and swing
Or play king and queen
Till her hands calloused
Or her parents called to eat.
She ran her hands along
the slide—
—her favorite.
As she felt like flying.
She thought.
Thought about what changed.
Why she did not walk this park,
Why she did not play anymore,
Why she did not catch frogs
Along the river.
Thought
why she had not climbed the old oak tree
The one—when she was little—
Where she would be perched
On its strongest branch.
—she kept that tree-branch climb a secret.
She knew it was wrong
She was told she could fall—
But she hid it
Because
In her mind,
then,
She felt free.
She was a
Young.
Curious,
Excited,
Dreaming.
She walked.
She walked
With her head high,
Even though
a tear slid down her cheek.
She walked.
Even though she started to realize
That she had lost parts of herself.
She kept going.
Even though she could now drive,
had all A’s in school,
She was a good friend—
kind,
Respectful,
Responsible,
Yet she let herself sink.
As she realized that things
are changing too fast.
She was a women
And she could not escape it.
Last time she spoke to her parents,
They cried together.
she forgot to say “I love you” back.
Now—a women—
she realizes
that as she’s grown,
They've grown.
They've hurt.
They’ve cried.
They've loved.
They've seen
The woman she became.
She
Never asked.
—Never questioned
—Who she wanted to become.
She walks.
Where white foam laces—
The sand like cloth,
Then recedes into blue.
She kneels
against the grains—
To grasp at
Shells and
Play with *****
That scatter among
The towers of corroded rocks.
soon—
She is resting
On the pier.
Towel beneath her
Her legs swinging over the ledge.
she watches
Sailboats glide quietly
Under the new-day sun.
She watches the waves
That rush up the columns
and rumble back out,
While the pier creaks
Under the growing heat.
Her parents walked this bridge.
holding her hands,
Lifting her up in the air
As she would laugh.
She would always
Sprint up to the ice cream booth
And order her favorite.
“Strawberry with chocolate drizzle”
—her parents had never stopped laughing
While it dripped down her chin
Left a spot on her nose,
Got tangled in her
—carefully braided hair.
they would sit.
Right where she was now,
And somehow— just talk.
Talk about her friends,
Disgusting school lunches
That made her gag.
The boys in her class
That annoyed her.
This all came rushing back
As she sobbed
into her towel.
—her feet dangling over the pier.
With knowledge
the ice cream shop is gone,
That life had changed
And she was lost.
She sat and sobbed
While the wind bit at her nose.
While the water
Tickled her ankles,
Till all she could hear
Was the waves, her heartbeat,
And the small gasps
Escaping from her throat.
She stood up,
Wiping her face.
Picked up her
—tear soaked towel,
walked to the very
End of the pier.
She watched it
Stand over her.
The lighthouse.
She had been
Scared of going up there.
But she stood here now,
Satchel resting against her hip
Head high again.
—unlocking the door
With that little gold key,
That was given to her
And had been
a mystery.
She walked up
The skinny-scuffed stairs,
Walked up all hundred-
reaching the balcony.
Her hand grasping the rail
As she slid onto the wooden floor.
She watched.
Watched people exist in life.
Watched as neighborhood kids
Giggled—going down the slides
Watched.
As many
Swam,
Laughed,
Loved,
Lived.
she knew then—
That even though
She wasn’t the same
Little girl.
She could not climb that tree,
Or could not fit down the slide.
She was still herself.
But life had changed
—and she changed with it.
Standing there
She knew.
She wanted something
—Not smaller,
But bigger.
As the tire swing
No longer fit her like it did,
That book she had
Did not set her free,
The key she had
Was not the answer.
now—
Standing in this lighthouse
Overlooking the world wake.
She felt it.
Felt it stretch—
Then ignite.
As the light she had carried.
—the sparkle she once had
Was still there,
Still glowing.
—and now
Keeping it lit
Was all she wanted.
Just as it had
As a little girl.
Dec 27, 2025
Dec 27, 2025 at 2:22 PM UTC
—the little girl—
A Poem
A dim hush
where light sways
Where flickers of sun
Scatter in the
Sunrise’s haze
A young woman is sat
on her worn tire swing,
The one that now—
fits snug around her hips.
Her tangled-brown hair
Catching the last light
From flickering street lamps
Beyond the trees.
Her feet resting the grass
As she reads,
Deep chocolate brown
Scanning the pages
With quiet intention.
She glides through pages
Where stories take her places,
Where she tries to study what to be.
She studies pages
Till the last streetlamp fades
Before tucking it nice
In her worn-leather satchel
With her mini gold key,
And her yellow beach towel.
She wanders downhill
Where pastel flowers dance,
where children
Squeal as they play,
running her fingers
along the small chains—
The ones where she would sit
and swing
Or play king and queen
Till her hands calloused
Or her parents called to eat.
She ran her hands along
the slide—
—her favorite.
As she felt like flying.
She thought.
Thought about what changed.
Why she did not walk this park,
Why she did not play anymore,
Why she did not catch frogs
Along the river.
Thought
why she had not climbed the old oak tree
The one—when she was little—
Where she would be perched
On its strongest branch.
—she kept that tree-branch climb a secret.
She knew it was wrong
She was told she could fall—
But she hid it
Because
In her mind,
then,
She felt free.
She was a
Young.
Curious,
Excited,
Dreaming.
She walked.
She walked
With her head high,
Even though
a tear slid down her cheek.
She walked.
Even though she started to realize
That she had lost parts of herself.
She kept going.
Even though she could now drive,
had all A’s in school,
She was a good friend—
kind,
Respectful,
Responsible,
Yet she let herself sink.
As she realized that things
are changing too fast.
She was a women
And she could not escape it.
Last time she spoke to her parents,
They cried together.
she forgot to say “I love you” back.
Now—a women—
she realizes
that as she’s grown,
They've grown.
They've hurt.
They’ve cried.
They've loved.
They've seen
The woman she became.
She
Never asked.
—Never questioned
—Who she wanted to become.
She walks.
Where white foam laces—
The sand like cloth,
Then recedes into blue.
She kneels
against the grains—
To grasp at
Shells and
Play with *****
That scatter among
The towers of corroded rocks.
soon—
She is resting
On the pier.
Towel beneath her
Her legs swinging over the ledge.
she watches
Sailboats glide quietly
Under the new-day sun.
She watches the waves
That rush up the columns
and rumble back out,
While the pier creaks
Under the growing heat.
Her parents walked this bridge.
holding her hands,
Lifting her up in the air
As she would laugh.
She would always
Sprint up to the ice cream booth
And order her favorite.
“Strawberry with chocolate drizzle”
—her parents had never stopped laughing
While it dripped down her chin
Left a spot on her nose,
Got tangled in her
—carefully braided hair.
they would sit.
Right where she was now,
And somehow— just talk.
Talk about her friends,
Disgusting school lunches
That made her gag.
The boys in her class
That annoyed her.
This all came rushing back
As she sobbed
into her towel.
—her feet dangling over the pier.
With knowledge
the ice cream shop is gone,
That life had changed
And she was lost.
She sat and sobbed
While the wind bit at her nose.
While the water
Tickled her ankles,
Till all she could hear
Was the waves, her heartbeat,
And the small gasps
Escaping from her throat.
She stood up,
Wiping her face.
Picked up her
—tear soaked towel,
walked to the very
End of the pier.
She watched it
Stand over her.
The lighthouse.
She had been
Scared of going up there.
But she stood here now,
Satchel resting against her hip
Head high again.
—unlocking the door
With that little gold key,
That was given to her
And had been
a mystery.
She walked up
The skinny-scuffed stairs,
Walked up all hundred-
reaching the balcony.
Her hand grasping the rail
As she slid onto the wooden floor.
She watched.
Watched people exist in life.
Watched as neighborhood kids
Giggled—going down the slides
Watched.
As many
Swam,
Laughed,
Loved,
Lived.
she knew then—
That even though
She wasn’t the same
Little girl.
She could not climb that tree,
Or could not fit down the slide.
She was still herself.
But life had changed
—and she changed with it.
Standing there
She knew.
She wanted something
—Not smaller,
But bigger.
As the tire swing
No longer fit her like it did,
That book she had
Did not set her free,
The key she had
Was not the answer.
now—
Standing in this lighthouse
Overlooking the world wake.
She felt it.
Felt it stretch—
Then ignite.
As the light she had carried.
—the sparkle she once had
Was still there,
Still glowing.
—and now
Keeping it lit
Was all she wanted.
Just as it had
As a little girl.