Child's Bones

I am too afraid of everything

except not afraid

of the remarkable strangers.

Disillusioned by darkness,
I miss the confidence

in setting out over an evening.

Now roads encroach me.

I walk, unable to savor

summer's kind valor.

This language I speak

useful as plastic toys,

cracked and colored bright.

Must be that I have child's bones,

when the world feels too big,

and God knows you're alone.