Growing Up.

Is that your plan
Doodled in the margins of a notebook
In fifth period, English class?
Lofty goals and sun-kissed dreams
Bursting through
The fading ink of your sloppy scrawl.
You feel invincible,
Your life a jigsaw puzzle,
Waiting to be made whole
On a lazy Sunday afternoon.

I know what you’re thinking.
I can read it in the curve
Of your mouth
As you sneak a glance
While passing a mirror.
I bet it’s nice to feel so brave,
To watch the world
Quiver at your touch.
Fate becomes your little pet,
Nuzzling into the palm of your hand.

But pets die, and mirrors break
Old notebooks get left behind
Sunday noons are ruined by work,
And jigsaw pieces disappear.