Red, velvet,

Roses.


It’s her middle name you know.
It smells sugary, sweet;


but watch the thorns, they’re deadly.


Remember when she was little?

With her big brown eyes mocking yours?
She ran freely, and skipped cautiously,



She wanted to fly.


And then,

She knows you better than yourself.
The only flying she’ll be doing is on a plane.


And she hates flying.


You can make jokes that she’ll understand, and you both laugh with immaturity.

Yet, she tantalizes thoughts,

and makes her own memories.


Strange isn’t it?
How fast the time flies...
Where that little girl isn’t so little,

and the world isn’t so perfect.

Curious how she’ll never understand time,
well...of course until she’s in your shoes.
Then she’ll be trying to relive it,


Just as you do.