I don’t mind that I’m childlike,
With wonder in my gaze,
While grown-ups chase the ticking clock,
Lost in their endless maze.
They talk of rules and weighty things,
Of life that must be tough,
But I wonder when the world forgot
That joy can be enough.
Why call it childish to be free?
To dance in rain, to laugh with glee,
When every “grown-up” part of me
Would rather be wild, bold, and free.
You speak of “adulting” like a crown,
A burden worn with pride,
But I’d trade all the grown-up frowns
For the child I feel inside.
They say we must grow up and conform,
That freedom’s something to outgrow,
But I know deep within my heart,
It’s the child who makes us whole.
So yes, I’ll be childish, and I’ll play,
With love and light to guide my way,
For in this world of rules and grind,
It’s the child that keeps me kind.