Your tiny ten-year-old body

is filled with energy.

You’re always jumpy,
and always moving,
a step, a twirl, a leap.

I drag my feet across the ground,
keeping my eyes low.
My head is filled
with foggy clouds,
from nights all lacking sleep.

Your mouth is always open wide
like a squeaky old mailbox.
You shout your thoughts,
like Pandora’s box,
but filled with much more glee.

My mouth is always sewn up tight,
my words all locked away.
I guess I found
the hard way ‘round;
A word can be a bomb.

You make friends in an instant,
after meeting a kid just once.
You stick together,
birds of all feathers,
a look, a hug, a grin.

It takes me just about a week
just to try and talk to someone.
Then a few more months
to even consider
the slightest possible connection.

Your eyes are always full of life,
a smile your constant companion.
It breaks my heart
when I remember
that I was once like you.