You move like Mowgli,

my jungli,

my wild girl.

Leapfrogger of bollards,

wall clamberer,

runner with your school socks

falling down.

Don't change

yet,

Oh writer of tiny most miniature love notes

to your friends

and me.

Don't stop singing,

in your nasal way, off key,

the narration of your life

when you think that no-one's listening.

I see the false encroaching

I see a finish

a polish

a veneer approaching

And even though I'd like to keep it back with kisses

I recognize the day

of growing up and in's

Not far away.