This is about the same as the last poem, just as an Epistle.


Mother,
Days are slipping by so fast.
And as each month disappears
I miss home even more.
School is hard.
Work replaces Play.
Study replaces sleep.

I still remember when I was little.
At the top of the slide
squealing in delight
My chubby fingers clasped around a dandelion
I didn’t care how dirty my hands were

And with my hair in a bow
I walked through the damp grass
With a happy heart and a toothless grin

Now
As I sit in a quiet classroom
I sketch a single flower
On the corner of my notes
Musing of an adoration
And the bell chimes
One so familiar
And I stand
Lifting the heavy bag onto my shoulder…
I saunter into the busy halls

I wish I could break away…
Just for a week
And see you again.

Mom,
I’m a child no more.