I am

I want

to run like a child again,

to escape to the park to play footie

to think of nothing more demanding than

which flavour ice cream to choose.

I need

to splash barefoot in puddles

to bake mud pies and decorate them

to skip down the street

and not step on the cracks.

I still

dance in the rain

slide down banks on sheets of cardboard

hide and jump out at people

swing and play on the merry-go-round.

I am

still me.