Written by Stephanie Montatore
Cover image by Connor Brennan
At this age, everybody’s keeping face,
Letting go of their old one, or clinging to it
Like they’ve got none,
But they’ve got some
People to fill the space.
Saturday nights spent wasting away,
But they smile while they stumble.
And there’s this girl I used to know,
I loved her back in primary,
Then we started to grow.
She once told me stories about
Thieves with golden knees,
Fairies hiding up in the trees,
And no responsibilities.
But now she’s holding cigarettes,
Tells me the clock is cruel, and I bet.
Because, at this age, no one’s holding my hand,
Or asking me kindly if I want to dance.
So, I walk home alone,
I guess I’ll learn to like it, but just know –
If you ever want to talk about
Thieves with golden knees,
The fairies still hiding in your trees,
Or how much you wish you
Still had no responsibilities,
Know that that’s okay, because at this age
we’re not ready to waste away.
This poem provides a different perspective on the theme with a focus on childhood nostalgia (like fairies and goblin stories) and embracing where you are at in the current moment.

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