Ice cream sundaes still taste yummy . . .
Fireworks make you, "Ohhh and Ahhhh".
A lazy ride on a wobby bicycle,
never seems too far.
So you think you're all grown up . . .
when in the mirror you take a look?
But it only sees the outside . . .
like the cover of a book.
Your cover tells but a tiny part . . .
of the true story written there.
On pages filled with tears and joy,
of love and change and care.
Being grown up doesn't mean . . .
you leave it all behind.
It only means that sometimes . . .
your child's a bit harder for you to find.
Looking for that little girl, . . .
you thought she'd gone away?
Not true . . . she's there just waiting
. . . there's no way she did not stay.
So you think you're all grown up . . .
and must live in memories of the past.
It isn't true. It's just not so . . .
grab her hand and hold it fast.
Take another look . . . and there you'll see,
her laugh, her eyes, her smile.
You see them there, I know you do . . .
let them out, . . . once in a while.
So you think you're all grown up . . .
don't let that get you down,
for there behind your eyes you see . . .
the child you lost . . .
is found.
There she is! Just listen and . . .
I'll prove it to you, too.
Do you giggle when you see giraffes. . .
walking two by two?
Does 'Cat in the Hat' still makes you smile?
A silly song still linger?
The urge to play a game of jaxs
. . . or squeeze 'play dough' through your fingers?
It's her, . . . you see, she's there . . .
part of everthing that's you.
Throughout your days, she helps you through
the grownup things you do.
Do you still make silly pictures . . .
in the cold and frosty snow?
Lick the spoon when making walnut fudge . . .
and snatch a glop of cookie dough?
Life's too short . . . it races past,
don't let joy just slip away.
You're never too grownup, my friend, . .
to stop a while and play.
©2000 Susan Misty Taggart
All Rights Reserved
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