She strolls down the lane,
Hesitant, shy;
Scarcely aware of others
Passing by.

Lost in thoughts
Of inner self:
Adventuress; woman;
Gamin; elf.

She feels like a woman;
She feels like a child.
Conflicting emotions,
Driving her wild.

She pauses a moment,
Hat in hand,
Trying so hard
To understand.

She looks in the window,
And what does she see?
Times that have been,
Or times yet to be?

Is the "real" her inside?
Or standing out here?
Sometimes reflections
Just aren't very clear!

A waif in bib overalls
Looks back at her -
Something to come?
Or things as they were?

That waif in the window,
Be it her a while back?
Or a child that she'll have?
Is time out of whack?

Oh, no, my sweet child,
It's a tale often told;
And it's all part of being
Fifteen years old!

© 2001 Peggy Swycaffer