young

i sit down on a bench under the tree,

holding a book in one hand,

a cup of tea in the other.

i gaze up at the beautiful scenery,

wondering why it’s my first time here.

i watch the kids play and run and jump

and wish i could join them.

oh how awkward it would be;

one adult and many kids playing together.

how scared they would be

if a stranger approached them

and asked to join them in their games.

“grown ups are not supposed to play,” one of them would mutter,

and i wouldn’t know how to respond.

“it’s our bodies that age. our souls don’t,” i would answer back,

secretly doubting the words that had just come out of my mouth.

it’s a lie;

our souls have grown old.

we lost our sense of wonder.

we lost our playful nature.

we follow rules.

we have stopped our minds from painting pictures of unfamiliar worlds.

i wish i could have traveled as a child

to a land

where our souls would stay the same.

our brain would generate a dozen questions per hour.

our hearts were bigger than the earth.

our eyes twinkled like the brightest stars.

if only.