Growing Pain

The day 

at the root of my dreams 

approaches 

me. In a lime tree 

I sit, reflect, relive 

17 years seep

from the cracks 

of my mind.

Memories of me 

pleading, “Mommy when 

will I be a big kid? They get to 

have all the fun.”

She promised me 

I would grow 

up. She did not lie, 

but she omitted 

the sorrow.

Time, swift and karmic

will not stop for me, but

I will savor the beautiful 

seconds it has to offer. 

With a rope 

of tears 

I grasp these final days.