I long to find my younger self once more.
The girl and not the woman.
I long to wake
And see the day ahead in hours and minutes
Of time yet to be filled.

To look in the mirror and see not mother, wife and daughter
But me.
The me who still lingers beneath the worry and concern.
The me who once with rucksack travelled and adventured.
Me.

The woman who stares back is someone I don't recognise.
The lines and blank expression
Tell nothing of the person underneath.
I wish I had the time to ask 'who are you?'�
The answer though, not one I want to hear.

I dream at night I pack my bag and quietly close the door.
The thrill of freedom pounding through my being.
Yet when dawn breaks, the clock once more, maps out my day,
And it is the woman, not the girl, who stares into the mirror once again.

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