Pigtails of plenty,
yellow scrunchies,
and purple plaid.
"You're only you,
I'm pleased as punch,
I'm only glad".
Peter Piper and Betty Botter
picked some peppers
and bought some butter,
Too many rhythms,
too many rhymes,
too much to say,
too little of time.
I hear not to run,
I'm asked what's the rush.
The more that I rush
and the faster I run,
the sooner I'll reach
my great big fun.
Shoe laces bug
big fun
they do.
"They do.
Your speech is peaches
your pace is pie
the space you use
is more than fine".
I try to explain
the colors I play;
going with guidelines
is only a game.
Skipping through gardens
of boxes that make
splendid presents
to open
and fun blocks
to break.
"They're only toys,
you're precisely right".
Meaning is found
in circles on paper,
when pencils make the path.
I see signs in the sky
and in my mind
that for others
seek to hide.
Sometimes it's first fantasy;
another time is reality
If you listen to me,
if you'll hear what I say,
you can learn to see colors,
and can stop seeing grey
"You're sight is unique,
you're special indeed,
but you aren't set apart,
left out,
or alone.
I believe".
The happiness I've found
I can't express.
Clapping
and stomping
and spinning around
aren't enough
to catch
the feelings I've felt.
"Your words aren't just sound,
they're a song to be sung;
felt by each
bringing glasses to sing
one by one,
to echo
to ring".
Every coin has two sides...
Aches that I feel
I can't explain.
Big tears have fallen
that haven't told you pain.
Sharper to chip,
heavier to break,
louder to shake
I wish they were.
They chip, break, and shake
but you can't feel my aches.
I can't explain what's real
when it's only felt inside.
"You don't have to stress about
why you feel what you feel.
There might not be a why
but it's fair and it's real.
I know how hard
it is to live here,
for you to allow,
but it's not forever,
it's only for now".
I promise to slow down
I'll be quieter I swear
I won't reach higher than my height
I won't choose left over right
Believing without sight
is for children not my height
I'll draw squares that are not round
and play games you'll understand
with children on the playground
not alone in this box of sand
"You promise every year to be shy,
to not run,
to not trip,
to not cry big cry's.
This year promise to be you,
to wear plenty of pigtails
with purple plaid
with yellow scrunchies
with some breaths unallowed.
Like the breath that lives
between a sentence
wasting time
if only for an instant.
Jimminy Crickets
and Holy Cow,
I know.
Even though it's hard,
although you're awfully sad,
try to love this special you;
it's the only you to have
and to hold
and to hug
right now.
I'll skip with you
and hold your hand.
I'll hear your words,
the one's unsaid.
I'll sit by you
and be your friend.
