The Child Within

I met my inner child the other day. It came as quite a shock as I had been minding my own business and hadn't asked to be introduced.
She was quite sweet really. Unaccustomed to the cut and thrust of adult banter, she looked quite fragile. Terrible haircut too. No loving mother would have done that to a child unless they took a grim satisfaction at knowing they would be teased.
So I peered in to those innocent eyes and asked a fundamental question: 'Where did you go wrong? At what point did you cease to develop into a hardened woman of the world and decide to stay rooted to childhood? What lure keeps you stagnant at eight, when clearly you have the body of a maturing English Rose?'
The child couldn't answer, but stifled a giggle, which belied the bead of salty water that trickled delicately down her cheek.
'I'm lovely when I'm asleep' she chortled. 'It's only when I'm awake that I'm too much.'
Too hot to handle and too confident to be allowed to run amok in the adult world. 'Well soon knock that out of you' adults plotted. 'We'll wipe that cheeky smile off your face!'

And so they did.

I woke up one morning and the deed had been done.
The petals dropped randomly from the Rose, and a bead of blood drizzled from the thorn of lifes' experience.
Sleep well my child, I am your guardian now.

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