Halves

You whistle when they tell you that you’re not allowed to talk
And dance from place to place because if you can run, don’t walk
Stop your tracks and speech if, say, the sunbeams catch your eye
Other just can’t credit it—and you can’t explain why
Running just to run—there’s nothing quite like it, I swear
Leaping from a cliff to feel the wind whip in your hair
Sitting wrapped in stillness to bid goodbye to a full day
Or gritting your teeth to stick it out when you want to run away
Knowing when to speak and when the time for words is past
Too stubborn to give up a friendship if you can make it last
Dancing and spinning outward if you trust the hand you hold
And playing on the playground though they say that you’re too old
Serenading the crickets and the moon with your guitar
I’ve seen the many halves of you and, I like the ones you are.