Falling out of the pram and crawling around and mam in the background shouting, mind the bairn, my turn to walk, faltering, altering the placement of my feet, walking, so neat, and school, wishing I didn't have to walk, and there's no fun in running to sit in a classroom.

then work, back to the crawling to start the day grinding away,
unexpectedly old which is quite a surprise,
consistently told to open my eyes and to watch where I'm going,
knowing that those who say that have never been there,
don't have grey hair nor the thousand yard stare,

but
I'm still here
falling out of my pram
expecting my mam
to catch me.