The freedom of being

The freedom of being a child
a reckless abandonment
shrieking—
with excitement
with trepidation
swinging high
on a playground swing
feet in the air—
watch me Mummy, I can touch the sky
daring,
daring to let go—
just with one hand
one finger poised
slightly crooked—
I’ve done it Mummy
I touched a cloud
did you see me Mummy
a toothless grin
bottle youth
this is the best time
no thought for tomorrow
stay here
stay as long as you can—
suspended in this time
until it is no more