When we are young, and our eyes see what we want to without the burden of other’s expectations of us, that’s when we live for us. No worries, nothing to stop us from dreaming what we want to. As a second grader, I used to imagine myself as a pilot or an astronaut, soaring toward the stars. I dreamed I would sit on the moon and eat cheese sandwiches, and I felt that happiness had no end. Even as a “little more grown up” tenth grader, I used to imagine myself as a journalist or a writer.

Today, when I see my neighbor’s one year old girl come to me so readily, calling my name with so much affection, and in her charming way ask for biscuits and even refer to her sibling who’s going to be coming soon, I feel memories creeping back into me, happy ones where I used to ask my mother if I would be getting a sister anytime. Time flows by so soon, doesn’t it?

nostalgic for times
when virtue stayed true in heart
painting dream colors

For the inspirations given by Haiku Heights (#110. Childhood) and Haiku My Heart.

(March 10th, 2012)

Poetry & writing are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

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