When We Were Young

When I was young, I learned how to trust

the hand that guides me through busy streets

and crowded places even if my eyes can't see

where we were headed.

With my hand holding on tight,

I blindly weaved through hundreds of 

pairs of legs and feet

and swivled my way through these busy streets.

Until the pavements became too familiar to me

like the back of my hands

and I thought I won't need it anymore,

that hand that's been guiding me all along.

I thought I could make it on my own.

But then I suddenly found myself

turn around the corner of an unfamiliar street

and suddenly my fingers started clutching tight,

as if itching for the feel

of the hand that will pull me through the crowd.