Wish.

She writes her eights
Like a child would draw a whimsical snowman.
She, and only she,
Knows how to make Peter Pan himself look like an adult.
She dances barefoot in the grass
With nothing but her hums to accompany her.
The child trapped within her
Always manages to shine through
With her every move.
As fearless and curious
As only a child can be,
She uses her time wisely.
Chasing fireflies,
Counting stars,
And dreaming her youth back to her side.