You spend your days unlike any seven-year-old I know —
TV? A shrug. The Switch? Left untouched.
Barbie? A fleeting ten minutes before dismissal.
You squander the hours,
claiming boredom, pacing the room,
uncertain how to fill the vastness of time.
Did I fail you, little one?
I know the fire your mind holds —
a spark of creativity waiting to ignite,
a passion still untapped.
Should I have taught you the art of stillness,
the quiet comfort of one’s own company?
So, when boredom presses its weight upon you,
it wouldn’t so easily conquer your spirit.
Or is it something more?
A longing for treasures just out of reach,
or dreams too vast for your young heart to hold?
I hope it’s the latter —
a spark for what’s yet to unfold.
For stillness and quiet,
those ever-faithful allies
are constant companions —
never straying, never abandoning,
always yours to embrace or endure.
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