Remember when I was little and I found you everywhere?
You were under my pillow for tuckins.
You were waiting behind the sprinkler
to run round and round to catch me.
You sat with me and watched the day pass by
from branches high above reality.
You were my mud puddle playmate.
But now mud is mud.
I don't find the joy when it splashes me anymore.
I don't wait for you to chase me.
I don't look for you under my pillow.
I don't let you tuck me in.
I'm too busy to watch the day pass by.
I run and run to take hold of it,
but the day leaves me miles behind.
And I'm too dry and breathless to even
remember my name.
I trip, I stumble, I fall,
I bruise, I can't get up,
I can't move.
So You do.
You say my name.
And because you've found me,
the little girl's spirit
and woman's mind finally cry out:
"DadDadDadDadDad
Dad.Dad.Dad.
Daddy!"
2 comments:
This makes me want to cry. It's so true. It's the reason I cried (under my pillow) every time mom sang "Puff the Magic Dragon"--because somewhere deep down, I knew that the magic, the childlike faith wouldn't last forever...or does it?
I think we just have to look harder to find it. Today I saw a girl in a tutu buying a tiny little pumpkin. She smiled when I said I liked her outfit. That was magical.
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