November 24, 2008
By Rebekah Moore, Campinas, ZZ

The little girl who scraped her knees and climbed trees,

wore boys clothes and snickered at dresses when those occasions arose.

The little girl who was here, has disappeared.

And in her place comes a young woman with smooth legs and pedicured nails,

the only thing that remains are ponytails

Where one has gone another has come.

For the good, nobody knows, to live is all we can do,

for there is no going back no rewind.

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