I miss the weightlessness of being small,

When time moved slow and stakes felt small.

No clocks to race, no plans to keep,

Just endless days and dreamless sleep.

I miss not thinking ten steps ahead,

Not lying awake in a busy head.

I miss the quiet, the unearned peace,

Before life demanded a steady lease.

I think I’ve reached the “end of youth,”

The line Ed sang, a haunting truth.

Where carefree fades, replaced by care,

And the world feels heavier everywhere.

I carry the echoes of laughter now gone,

Faces that fade but still linger on.

The silence grows sharper, the absence more clear,

As pieces of love disappear year by year.

But still, I stand in this strange new place,

Wearing the years like a borrowed face.

Not who I was, not yet complete,

Just finding my way with reluctant feet.