Twelve

when i was twelve,
i wanted to read
about someone like me.

and when i was sixteen,
no one could see the me in she,
because we were too old, i guess.

but the we of me was real to me,
and i recalled what they would not
about coming to that age.

it makes me wonder
if frances would remember
by the age of sixteen,

that she once was f. jasmine,
or would she forget all she was
when she was twelve?

Share this!Email this to someoneTweet about this on TwitterShare on TumblrShare on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestShare on StumbleUponShare on Reddit

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *