Paul Schmid/MCT

I feel changed, less tame, I am filled with strange thoughts. Is this growing up? Is it time?

Daughter, you’re young, your youth is still on. But I’ll answer your queries, with the wisdom of time.


Tell me mother, will my limbs grow long? Will I twist and bend like a magic song?

Listen, daughter, let me tell you the truth—you will know everything with time.


But mother, tell me, will I grow up like you? Will my hips fill out and my hair fall, too?

Darling, believe me, you’re beautiful—and nothing will change with time.


So in the coming days, when the trees grow tall, will you let me walk without a hand to hold?

Believe me, daughter, what I say is true—you will always need me, all the time.


I believe you, mother, that I’m sure of. But then tell me please, what’s “falling in love?”

What’s love, you ask? Here’s my reply—don’t be tempted, not even by time.


If not love, then what can I do? Where can I find someone to hold onto?

Hold on to me, doll, I’ll be with you. Till your last breath falls, till the end of time.


And what about father, will he be there? Should I make room for his best armchair?

Remember those hands that grip so hard? I won’t forget, never forget that time.


Does love hurt, mother, is that why you cry? Has anyone in history ever truly tried?

Forget love, forget night, forget everything but me; only I will stand the test of time.


So if the moment comes when I must leave, should I expect you to grieve for me?

Leave me, dear? That will never be. Consider me your shadow, through space and time.


But can I grow this way? Can I become whole? Will your loving arms become a stranglehold?

Such things are false; I am your fortunate light. Consider me you, you me, through time.