Waiting on the steps,

waiting at home.

Wanting what’s next,

tired of being alone.

 

Still holding hands to cross the street,

tripping over her own two feet.

She wants to break free,

she wants to scream.

 

Still following directions,

still learning lessons.

Smothered by protection,

her thoughts screaming objection.

 

Waiting on the side lines,

outside looking in.

Always waiting for signs,

always wondering, “when?”

 

Still a little girl

stuck in a little world.

Little blonde curls,

little dress that twirls.

 

Waiting to not be so little,

she’s a bright visionary.

Caught in the middle,

ready to be extraordinary.