A tale I wrote
Upon opening door number 11
of her Christmas advent calendar,
Jemima was bitterly disappointed.
Instead of an eleventh chocolate
in the shape of a snowman
or stocking or Santa's hat,
she saw a folded piece of paper
no bigger than her thumb.
She opened it up and,
written in miniature, gold ink,
were the words:
Do you remember
when you found life easy?
When putting on shoes
was just something you did
and not something you had to plan?
Do you remember muddy knees?
Do you remember running until your legs
became over-cooked spaghetti?
Do you remember singing to yourself
and asking your parents to dance
and telling people what you think
and picking your nose
and rolling your tongue?
Do you remember sleeping?
Do you remember laughing?
Do you remember doodling?
Do you remember walking
alone down the street
comfortable in your thoughts?
Well, you know you can still
do all those things
right?
Easy for you to say,
thought Jemima,
grabbing her shoes.
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