
Live your life
with one shoe untied
and one polished bright.
Pay your bills on time,
but still stop to stare
at puddles holding the sky.
Learn how to carry
the weight of hard days
without forgetting
how to chase fireflies.
Be adult enough
to apologize first,
to stay when things get difficult,
to build a table sturdy enough
for others to rest upon.
But be child enough
to dance in the kitchen
when nobody’s watching,
to believe clouds resemble dragons,
to laugh so hard
your stomach aches like summer.
Keep a pocket
for responsibility,
another for marbles, crayons,
tiny treasures no one else understands.
Grow older, yes—
but never so tall
that you cannot kneel
to inspect a ladybug crossing the sidewalk.
The world will ask you
to become stone.
Instead, become a tree:
strong enough to weather storms,
soft enough to keep growing toward light.
Thank-you for Reading.
Brenda Marie
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