Then
I was a dreamer;
a force to be reckoned with.
My imagination flourished under blue and sunny skies.
Thought myself a princess with a crown of dandelions.
Lying in an open field: birds flying overhead,
The quacking of ducks in the small pond behind my house.
Grass stains on my jeans and leaves in my hair.
I lived in a trailer--
small, compact, caged in.
Shared a room with my sister:
(You took my Barbie! No, I didn't! Yes you did!)
Bitter rivals to the end.
But I saw a magic castle:
a king carrying me on broad shoulders
a queen never working, always home.
Played in dirt and perfect climbing trees:
thick trunks, reaching for the sky.
Swinging through the air:
(Flying, flying
I was free,
and everything in life was fair.


Now

I'm still a dreamer,

but not so much a force.

I question myself daily--

Am I taking the right course?

Do I look okay?

(Body, face, and hair)

Am I doing this right?

(Newspaper, Creative Writing,

Statistics)

Is this an active verb?

Will Sorrows like this?

I do things for my father:

(Will this make him proud of me?)

One smile from my mother,

and I know I'm where I'm supposed

to be.

I comment on every part of life;

I'm

Sarcastic, skeptical, and sardonic.

No time for daffodils or climbing

trees;

Everyone's asking me what I'm going

to be.

Questions from above

(below, behind, between.)

I carry them with me--

down, deep under my heart.

Where I am now

and who I was then--

They seem a world apart.