Days of Me

I often think of the past,

The days I spent climbing trees,

And stealing apples, climbing fences,

And rolling in the mud, when

Everyone else thought it was gross.

The cacti that hate me, I hate

Them too, and a little sister that

I always tell what to do, tadpoles

In my grandparents swimming pool,

Two buckets full, and ghost stories

Told to my cousins that made them want to

Go back inside on the fourth of July,

Winning all the games at recess, and

Making excuses when I lost, pretending I

Can breathe underwater, bee catcher,

Rock collector, video game player, tease.

I’ll be the one in the pond over there,

Swimming in the water and looking for the fish,

Running across the rocks bare footed, because

My feet are used to it, ‘saving the bird eggs’ that

Have fallen from the trees, playing doctor to

Injured little sisters, dancing in the rain,

Staring at the stars, defender of friends,

Toughest of the group, quad master,

Dune Buggy chick, motorcycle mischief,

Rage on the soccer field, skill on the court,

Driver of the Green Machine, “please forgive me

For what I did,” Braider of hair, catcher of the

Lizards… and frogs, internet person, book

Reader, night hider, money saver,

Movie critique, family wrestler,

Book writer, snuggler, swing dancer,

Pencil painter, doorframe hanger,

Forehead hugger, sun sitter.