the way the grass feels on your feet before you worry about if it needs a cut or if the bare spot will grow in

the way the sun charges your skin and touches your face before you stop realizing how it feels and worry more about if you'll get burned

the way the wind makes you smile and feel like you're flying before you're worried about how it makes your hair look or what they think

the way the cold won't bother you because you don't stop long enough to acknowledge it before you react in anticipation of how it may feel and worry about what to wear

the way that sand at the beach is just as easily snow as it is a castle before you worry about how you will ever get it all out of the car

the way you thought you could hug the moon and admire it in your hands before you let the distance of the world be your fence and your world grew small

the way you think the world is yours and time is distant before you ask where all the time went and how you spent it

the way you dance like the stage is yours in perfectly imperfect beauty before you worry about the audience who views you as ordinary as they view themselves

the way you sing to the skies like a thousand birds all at once before you hear the flat tones and cracks of insecurity and hide your voice away

the way you never realize you want what you had before until before is all there is