Color Me Young
A poem for the little kid in me
Being a kid is to be
covered in a mess, while trying
to color inside the lines.
The purpose is never perfection,
Just to find hues that combine.
Like a chocolate brown popsicle mouth
Licking greasy orange pizza fingers.
Or a shirt stained in red Gatorade,
And shoes soaking from the blue rain.
What I would do to be a kid again.
Stuffed animal in one hand,
Sidewalk chalk in the other.
Smiling big,
Through a world full of color.
A tiny little redhead,
Sprinkled with freckles all summer.
Now twenty seven,
And I have a confession:
Most days I feel like I’m seven,
Getting all giddy and goofy
Over the simple things.
Happy over the moon
With whatever life brings.
Like hot-pink beanbags,
Groovy green lava lamps and such.
Silly mascots at baseball games,
Or pepperoni pizza for lunch.
I’m in an adult body, with the perfect curse-
A kid-like heart wearing a yellow smiley t-shirt.
And growing up feels like living in reverse.
I swear not much has changed,
It’s still me.
With that big smile,
Red hair and rain soaked feet.
This time it’s a skateboard in hand,
And a paintbrush in the other.
Fake tattoos in a jagua blue.
And the same ocean green eyes
gazing back at you.
But a box in storage labeled:
“Sammy’s Stuffed Toys”
Next to a folder of old art,
Old writing, and old pictures-
Covered in glittery smiley-face stickers.
I’m a sucker for the little things.
Like tickle attacks and cheesy snacks.
Rainbow sprinkles on anything sweet.
Losing control inside a bouncy-house and feeling free.
Have you ever run so fast and skid your knees?
Or chased an ice cream truck while you laughed and screamed.
How about rolling down hills with crunchy fall leaves,
Picking up colors like oranges and greens.
I admit, it saddens me.
I miss waking up in the same house-
My parents, my grandma, brother, sister and me.
Don’t get me wrong,
I wouldn’t trade in this growing up for anything.
I’ve become intelligent,
A little wise and a lot more me.
The part I like best is,
I let it inspire me.
My innocence is what guides me.
It’s like rose colored glasses inside of me.
Spilling roses out on to you, and into the world.
It can be simple joys,
Or big, amazing, crazy things.
It’s a perspective I let color me.
I’m thankful for this
Little kid magic,
Painting the world around me.
