Dear Diary,

Do you remember
The little ten year old girl
Who wrote in that book

The girl who couldn't
Spell business without spellcheck
To save someone's life

The one who told you
About how she loved airports
So much she would fly

Who believed she could
Be a pilot, reporter,
and a researcher

The one who went on
For pages about mangroves
And the local reef

Who loved the world so
With all of its things to do
In such finite time

Who stood mesmerized
Over Miami's night lights
In a hotel room

The little girl who
Made an essay's outline in
Her polkadot book

The one who said she
Hated when her sister took
The hotel bed's sheets

The girl who dreamt of
Her eleventh birthday, so
She could be a witch

The one who knew that
She wasn't entirely
Regular or sane

Who wrote of her mom
Who threatened to burn you if
She kept on writing

Who wrote of her dad
And mom arguing in both
Private and public

Who was afraid of
"Inappropriate" things, since
Her parents said so

The one who told you
That she had no other friends
On her school's blacktop

The one who panicked
When she got less than eighty
For any test score

The one who knew she
Could never tell the grown-ups
Just how bad she felt

The one who vowed that
If MPs and psych wards came
She would kick and scream

Well I'm starting to
Because she was right here for
My entire life