Young indulgence

Because it NaPoWriMo! (National Poetry Writing Month)

Its a funny place to be,
Young but able,
undecided and free.
Hands still soft and supple,
Child’s fingers still visible.

And as long as she refrains from decision,
She identifies with fallacy;
infinitely young.

Minor burns on her forearm and the odd remnant of a gash,
She likens to be untouched though as she lives she develops a rash.
Her adventurous stupidity and ongoing trial and error add up,
Her body craves more,
Hence the itch.

And she does scratch.
The scratch will leave a little reminder.
Hope that it reminds her of lessons she ought to learn.
But its up to her when she will discern.

Today she is gone again.
Let her come home with a lesson.
Let her come home,
At the very least I reckon.