The hills now hard to climb,
Trees too tall to reach the top,
Now shy to skip the rope,
No patients to treat,
Injecting them with the most perfect needle: a thorn
No need to make propellers.
I miss the very tiny me
I miss the childhood fun,
I miss the little nurse in me
With knowledge of no drug
But proud to be a dedicated 'nurse'
Those childhood dreams
All now more than invalid
Now each one totally shattered
And almost everything long faded
I got to accept that am no longer a child.