Retrospection

I dream about a nursery, my special destiny
in ages long ago, when I was still me.

It was a microcosm, but unaware of itself.
I couldn’t grow up; there was only room for a child.

They were outraged when I tried to grow.
There was a veiled threat in their demeanor.

Everyone drew circles about each other.
As long as no one stepped over the line, it was fine.

I drew one circle around them all,
as I stood outside, alone and unrecognized.

Sometimes I think of going back there to see
just what it was that made me so unsatisfied.

But I’d have to draw a circle outside the one I drew,
and step backward into that tiny little room.