To grow up...A Poem by Hickory Dickory
At seven, growing up is the dream.
You can't wait to finally be old enough to watch that new horror film, or play that cool new video game. At ten, you can't wait to be a teenager. To be cool, with flashy clothes and the newest iPhone. At fourteen, sixteen is the newest goal. Finally leave school and go to collage, buy energy drinks and have your first official boyfriend. At sixteen, you just can't wait to be an adult. You can drink, get whatever tattoo or piercing you want. Finally leave home, and have freedom. University parties every night. Finally legal. At eighteen, you can't wait to get a job. Earn your own money, spend it however you want. At twenty-five, you can't wait to be thirty. Finally be taken seriously. Settle down, get married and have kids. Be treated like an adult. At thirty, you can't wait to watch your kids grow up. Guiding them through life, teaching them everything. At fifty, you can't wait to have grandkids. Babysitting them, spoiling them, being their favourite grandma. At seventy, you wish to be young again. Your grandkids are now too old to hang with their grandma, too cool. You long to be a child again. To be seven, where face painting is the most exciting thing in the world. To be ten, where you're finally tall enough to go on the super fun roller coaster. To be fourteen, hanging round the shops with your friends, wasting money on anything and everything you see that you absolutely need. To be sixteen, and your boyfriend is the best person ever, and then he isn't so much anymore. To be eighteen, getting way too drunk at your first university party, and regretting it the next day. To be twenty-five, working your first day at the office, and meeting the love of your life, and knowing it straight away. To be thirty, saying the vows and wearing the ring for the first time. To be fifty, staying up all night while your daughter is getting way too drunk at her first university party. To be seventy, wishing you hadn't spent your life wanting to grow up, because when you're all grown up, you see everything that you missed by trying to speed up time. And now all you wish for is a time machine, to go back and relive it all again. Just one more time.
© 2023 Hickory DickoryAuthor's Note
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3 Reviews Added on August 13, 2023 Last Updated on August 13, 2023 AuthorHickory DickoryAboutI love to write poems, no matter whether they are good or not, and I find writing them relaxing and theraputic. more..Writing
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