The little girl sitting on the floor

knew she wasn't that little anymore

and now was time to stand and think

how much has changed in a blink

of an eye; that how messed up

this sullen world is like a cup.

Cracked and burnt and full of things,

like dusty stones and shiny rings.

All twist and turn in a poky space

pushing each other, it's like a race.

It didn't make sense, it's almost wry

some laugh hysterically while others cry.

She wondered, pondered, trying to comprehend

was this the beginning or the end

of her life she just found out;

she's just a tiny speck in a crowd

of million others of her age,

blank, naive, on the same page;

but she knew how it was,

like a clayey knoll in a blanket of moss.

But when the wind hits at times,

the green is cleared and out it shines.

And she will too, betwixt, she knew;

and face the fire when it will roar.

Oh, she isn't that little anymore.

A.S.