Little girl in flannel shirt and blue jeans,
Long haired, adventuresome, unafraid.
Somehow the boys at the Palindrome tied me to a tree
And then I made a picture book based on it.

Teen in black hoodie and jeans,
Head tilted towards the ground, thoughtful, broken.
Late at night was the hardest, writing poetry
To grasp inklings of peace.

Undergrad in whatever array of colorful apparel felt right,
Unashamedly staring, gregarious, playfully naïve.
I wanted everyone to be my friend without
Considering that I might dislike them.

Adult? In various dresses and cardigans,
Elaborately colored hair, listening, present?
Still sort of bold, broken and colorful;
These molds that came before not uncast.