Little Girl

This is a story of a little girl,
Who had to grow into a child,
An old woman’s eyes in a toddler’s body,
With a yearning too big to realise.

Her little body ,
She knew so well,
The reflexion of an angle,
On the bathroom wall.

But “what’s that?” she said,
As she peered into her eyes,
The serious gaze of a woman in a child,
With a yearning too big to realise.

The town was bleak where she grew up,
In the shadow of Sydney’s western throw back,
Suffocated by friendless faces,
By a railroad track.

To her back yard she’d retreat,
Chasing lizards behind the garden shed,
Swinging round like a helicopter,
On the hills hoist swinging around.

Round, round,
Take her around,
Her little legs dangling with her eyes cast down,
As her childhood longing swam all around.

And then one day she was lying on her back,
In the rhythm of a blue sky day,
Staring up at the sky at how big it seemed,
Compared to her and her trampoline.

She soared into the heavens ,
And she peered back down,
To her tiny little body,
On a pin-drop scale.

She thought; “In this tiny world
That we call life,
There’s a great big part
For me to play”

She felt the strength of the sky ,
Stretching out her role,
And the breathe of the heavens,
Moving through her soul.

And then she knew with all her heart,
And with all the longing inside,
That she would grow into,
Her serious eyes.

Journal Comments

  • Greg  Francis
  • Wendy  Slee
  • MissKristy
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