You see a girl, young and chubby,
Dressed in pink,
Trembling when she walked,
Taking her first steps,
Somewhat with confidence,
As she had her dad’s hand caught.
You see a toddler, running around in the house,
With different shades of crayons,
In her hands and in her pockets,
Wearing a white tee,
All coloured by herself,
Sprinting to show it to her mom.
You also see a 6 year old,
Bubbly and naughty.
And taller than her brother,
Who now calls her ‘shortie’.
I paint an image of a girl,
Shy and somewhat introvert,
Who was moral when she turned 14,
Gazing out of the window,
Looking at the beautiful nature,
Doodling in her dreams.
A grown up adult,
With an endearing smile,
Lived through the best phases of her life.
Holding two families together,
Now, more responsible.
Sneaking into her memories,
One hot afternoon,
Thinking that if her memories could write back to her,
What would it be?
Would it be about every person in her life,
Or would it be only herself and her family?