Red Hibiscus

Strange; the passage of time.

I remember sun filled days when I would run along the grass, boundless energy in my bones.

Now, I crave the rainy days where I can hide away, all safe and warm.

I used to crave the endless attention of others, feeling like I would die without.

Now, I seek attention in moderation, the constant eyes burning me if their welcome is drawn out.

Has the spark of childhood already died in me? 

Have I have become what I feared? 

Another adult with the ghost of a child crying deep within?

I know its tempting, to wish to go back to how things were.

Back to the naivety and simplicity, when all I knew was happiness and cheer.

Or I am simply nostalgic? Romanticizing a time which was never that special? Such as how writers romanticize the Victorian era. Periods beautiful in aesthetic but dreadful to live in.

Yes, perhaps that is it.

Perhaps I indulge too much in the past.

It feels wonderful to swim in the memory.

But I, and you, best be careful not to drown.

The naivety of the past will only blind to the future, we will never survive.

And like the forbidden fruit, knowledge is both delicious and painful. 

You grow wiser, building on what you already knew, shaping your very mind.

So, look forward little dreamers. And don't cry for days past. 

Your inner child is still there. 

Continue to feed and nurture them with wonders and joy.

And the passage of time will be time well spent.