Dear girl,
You aren’t so little anymore
Those rhymes you’ve just written down have aged your soul
You are now wise beyond your years
Your tears that dissolve your words into large blue dots
Will one day become rivers flowing through your veins
Filling your heart with an innocence you thought you forgot
You write of fluttering butterflies right now
You will soon turn to werewolves and vampires
And then
You won’t rhyme at all
You will just paint pictures of your soul on pieces of paper supposed to contain class notes
The doodled angels on the corner of your pages will smile
At your childish notions of sorrow
Soon your poems will be cries for help
All that angst of teen age will turn into a knife inching into your veins
Each poem will enter your heart like a shooting star
Burn through its chambers and turn into star dust
Every night you will crumple your pages into hugs
Till the words drill a hole though your chest
In the mornings you will wake up with a smile
Those pages will turn magically into blankets
You will write of unrequited love
Of that boy who thinks you will never be pretty enough
Of that boy who loves you relentlessly till you break his heart
You will walk over a thousand such hearts
And place your words like flowers on the graves of your failed relationships
You will then wait till you are alone
And then embrace your solitude like You are all you need!
And just like that, one winter morning
The green of the forests, the growls of the wolves and the grim of the fairy tales
Will be back to claim their space on your empty pages
You will shoo them away brandishing your pen like a sword
Soon your scribbles will becomes quivers of arrows
With which you hunt down the voices in your head
Until all you will hear are the waves of words washing poems on the shores of your pages
Little girl, my friend,
That pen you hold like a laser beam
Will one day vaporise your insecurities
It will fill your heartbreaks with hot chocolate
It will teach you that remembrance is the only cure to death
It will keep your innocence neatly wrapped up and safe
In the pages of your notebooks
And plant tiny pieces of your soul in every poem
Until there is a garden blooming new words each spring
That pen you hold like a mountain top in your hands
It will find your love, bury your anger and save your soul
My dear girl,
Don’t ever let that pen go.