Looking back, it was just a blur, a vague memory, a fleeting glimpse of a possibility. It makes me rather afraid to try and put it down, it seems like putting a butterfly in a bottle. Tomorrow, I might get tired of looking at it. Tomorrow, it may die. Maybe I should let it be an elusive, pretty thing that made me smile for a moment.
Maybe, just maybe i can keep an image of it if I am careful.
I think I will try.
While on the road, I was thinking
That very little changes.
I am travelling from one reality to another
And I am still afraid
I still want to go home.
To be invisible.
I think I am all grown up
And the frightened little girl has been
The wind blows in my face and with it comes the fragrance;
In it, the memory
Of a little girl, laughing,
Waiting for her father.
She is not at home
And she is absolutely,
And I know
That the woman that I am cannot be
Without that girl who
In all her fear and confusion,