House of Childhood by Nataša Benedičič
House of Childhood Nataša Benedičič I would rest in a secret gardenWatering my unsaid thoughtsFor they had no other placeSince they were “too much”Waiting for life to unfoldLike a flower before meWith unplanned moments Yearning to arrive where I belong Little knowing that some people Search for their purpose all their livesConstantly feeling they bloom in the wrong placesLoving things that never love them backGrowing pains were a certainty.That I was becoming an adultYet a part of me wanted to hang onTo the zest for life, a two-year-old holds Childhood is like building a house.You will live…
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