Oh Brave World

I am looking out at you from my window above.
Ever dreaming,
Ever scheming,
Wondering what the next day will bring.

I am sitting on a tire swing at a friend's house.
Falling backwards while holding the chains,
Rust marks on my hands later transferred to my jeans,
Hand-me-downs, maybe,
Or pants I've long outgrown.

I am lost in a City I've yet to outgrow.
Asking for directions from an Irish tourist,
I find my way again,
Until my next venture, at least.

I am lost on a dirt road by a swampy marsh.
Grandpa tells me to turn off at a certain path,
A grassy knoll I never find,
My shotgun and the cattails my only companions.

I am running through a corn field with my dog.
She likes to trip me by running too closely behind,
So we walk to a creek filled with deer bones instead,
And design a fort of sticks.

(photo via This is Glamorous)