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On Turning Eighteen
I don’t want it to end.
running barefoot on a warm summer’s eve,
twirling and dancing under a starlit sky.
I’m not ready to say goodbye,
to hours spent exploring the mysteries in the depths of my own back yard,
or my spot in mommy’s bed, warm and safe, waiting for a stormy night.
I don’t want to give up
that warn piece of cloth that can get me through every boo-boo and bad dream,
or butterfly kisses on my belly.
I’m not ready to let go
of mohawks made of bubbles in the bathtub,
or lullabies sung softly by the only voice I’ll ever trust.
childhood is my safe haven,
innocence my escape.
I wish on every star that blesses the night sky not to make me go,
to let me stay right here.
protected from the fears of reality,
forever young and infinitely happy.

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