#pov third person

fearless, my child self was a sun in the making
a wild spinning thing pulling everything into itself
and spitting it back out again
with bright eyes and ringing peals of laughter

she was not brave, did not know how to be,
did not even know what bravery was.

all she knew was the fierceness of emotion,
the exhilaration of flight,
the sting of skinned knees nothing against
the balm of self-satisfaction

unable to conceive of failure, my child self was like the ocean,
endless and inevitable and constantly in motion
drinking in the world like she was made of thirst
greedy for the all of it, gravity growing

like weeds in summer, like dough rising,
like the carefully marked lines on her bedroom door

all she knew was the bright certainty of tomorrow,
that somehow, someway, all would turn out right,
that good always wins and evil gets redeemed,
that someone would always catch her if she fell—

brash and bright, she sings through my veins
out of key and without a care;

irrepressible.