Take a long look at that waddle.
Take in the energy of that waddle.
Take in the floral summer dress.
Small print, yellow, daisies.
Take in that smile.
Take in those caterpillar eyes.
Take in the crinkle on the nose.
Take in the full set of sparkling teeth.
Next time that waddle will be a tedious shuffle.
Dance, until all air has escaped your lungs.
Sing, until meaning mean nothing to words.
Laugh, until the roof echoes of the prior moment.
Tumble, until the room has been removed of all dust.
Eat, until corn bursts at the sight of fire.
Chew, until ice melts at the sight of spoon.
Style, until no hair is dry.
Play, until no head is willing to play anymore.
Next time, that room will be a stranger.
It has been two years.
Have I reverted? Or has the experience marinated with the rest.
Am I different? Grown? Or do I still crave to be cradled.
Will I ever revisit? Or has that self long fleeted.