Here lies the end of my glimpsed childhood,
of running through mud puddles, of baby dolls.
Here, at the brink of my long awaited womanhood,
facing a metropolis of grown up walls.
To ignore the ticking clock and its threatened pain,
I put my hair in pigtails and stare out at the rain.
Here, people take action without warning.
They dance and drink all through the night.
Here, fighting the brilliant edge of morning,
living only in the starlit hours of twilight.
To ignore consequences when the sun comes up,
they make a pot of coffee and drink four cups.
But where is the balance between child and woman?
Does young always lose, does old always win?
Where is the moment that Iíll know when
to shove one thing out and hold another in?
To ignore the question taking over my mind,
I let my hair down and run outside.