Sorry for the Inconvenience

The tooth fairy came at eight but left by twelve when it was dad who handed me the quarters instead.

We both knew we both knew.

I looked out the window at thirteen and tried to find endless fun again by fourteen without swings and trampolines to light the way.
Xbox wasn't for me and neither was denouncing Santa, but I guess those are the death and taxes of early adolescence.
I'm still wondering if Santa betrayed me or the other way around.

I moved on from 2+2=4, to 2+2=5, to 2+2= sitting by the knight, charisma, and anything with the word sex in it. Too many variables with too little revealed for anyone to ever solve, but sadly simple when you plug it into an equation.
4 was when I said more than "good" after mom asked how school was, 4 was the Easter Bunny and moment before that best friend moved across this way-too-big country.

4 had no point-oh because it was neither perfect nor panic.

Those crayons weren't neat but they colored a lot more beautifully than my single-shaded pencil.
Sometimes all we care about is beauty.
Sometimes all we care about is beauty.

I don't know if it was global warming or something less worldwide, because the planet doesn't revolve around me anymore, but somewhere along the way the seasons changed.

Loneliness was much too cold of a fall and don't get me started on the empty winter. Yes, sometimes spring doesn't last long enough, but even the seasons come in seasons.

And there comes a moment in time that we have to look past so the others don't go past.

For the leaves it's October, when they fall from home regardless of how bad the landing hurts and continue their march into a future biologists couldn't prepare them for.
For daisies, it's the moment they reveal a little boy's love for a little girl, giving up all their odd-numbered petals in the process.
They don't even know if they have the right amount, because what daisy can count?

For evergreens it's wondering why they have to live on through the snow while all their friends die. For numbers it's before they subtract, not knowing why they have to lose so much for an answer worth meaning.
But the evergreen is supposed to be the lucky one because it survived, and who worries about a number's feelings?

Maybe it's time to look past a moment ourselves,

because pencils and crayons both evaporate with time, and we're on the clock.

As for me, I think
it's time to combine pencils and crayons.