Few creatures hold the shape of their childhood.
For some, the transition is easy-
A slow stretching of the skin to follow
The slow stretching of the self.
Are more violent.
The ghosts of dead childhoods
Cling to the reeds in the ponds
Tuck themselves under leaves and logs
The frail skeletal remains
Of a form too small
To contain all the potential
I value the physical touchstones of transition.