The child in me
Does not have a throng
Bless those misty steps
Making my little feet strong

The child in me stares at the sky
she waves to the clouds
And when it rains , she starts to cry.

She deems some harm to the grass
she never knows that water from above
is an utter bliss
she likes roses like a butterfly

The child in me
Thrills at her leaps
In her tiny heart, she keeps
A flock of birds still too young to fly
she loves her birds and watches their steps
Day after day
The child in me has no worry
No notion of sin
No morning rush or evening hurry
The child in me just needs a doll
To tell her a fairy tale
Or the story of cinderella
Then lulls her to sleep
THAT’s All .

Here I Am a stale Adult
Leaning upon a tree
carrying in my heart that innocent guilt
Cherishing the memory of the child in me.

sihem cherif Octobre 2019