This is an artifact from half a lifetime ago. Although I had not yet come into my own as a poet when I wrote these words, and the poem has the painfully trite, often forced, singsong quality that marks so much of my juvenilia, the content still rings true to me. I could even make a case that the style reinforces the subject matter, although I had no such intent at the time I wrote it.
"I don't feel any taller now,"
I did, when turned four, say.
I don't feel any older now,
And I'm fourteen today!
At thirteen I was foolish,
Acting young and immature.
At thirteen I was lonely,
Feeling small and insecure.
Yet am I any wiser,
By my age alone enhanced?
Am I done with childish ways,
By newer paths entranced?
Yesterday I was thirteen,
But what more can I say?
I'm still a foolish, lonely child,
And I'm fourteen today!
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