I Write Poetry
Six Years Old
In elementary school, you would have been,
Been my favorite girl in my first grade class,
On St. Patrick’s Day, I hope that you wouldn’t wear green,
So I could have the chance to pinch you as you pass,
I would share my crayons with you, my scissors too,
If we put our materials together, they would surely last.
When it comes to you, I feel six years old over again,
Doing silly things to get your attention, your time,
Trying to impress you, so you would come with me,
And at recess maybe we can enjoy a little playtime.
On the bus, I would want to sit next to you,
Tell my mother the bus ran late, so I can walk you home,
On February 14, I’ll give you a Bugs Bunny valentine,
Along with a little box, that you would open when you get home,
I hope that you would enjoy the contents inside,
So much that you would sneak to call me on your father’s phone.
When it comes to you, I feel six years old over again,
Doing silly things to get your attention, your time,
Trying to impress you, so you would come with me,
And at recess, maybe we can enjoy a little playtime.
We can hang on the monkey bars and blow bubbles,
Play hopscotch, double Dutch, play until the day ends,
Hating the sunset, it’s time to go in; hopefully I’ll see you,
Tomorrow and you’ll make me feel six years old again.
