She lives in the quiet spaces between the beats of my heart. The inner child – everything I ever  was, everything I’d want to be. Her laughter echoes through the corridors of my soul. I have  known these places. She comes here often, playing with her little toys. Her tiny hands wrapped  around that favourite yellow bunny. She holds it tight to her chest. She runs in the meadows, 

sings to the sunflowers. She loves to chase the sunbeams – those first rays of dawn. She runs  and dances and jumps and smiles. Her hues of innocence all across the sky. But just as the sun  climbs a little higher, higher enough to make her shadow dwindle, a fear clutches my heart.  The fear of distancing – that my world would take over hers. The echoes will fade. The rush 

will carry away her song. And when there will be night, I will lay awake wondering if I’ll ever  get to see that face again. 

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The feeling that I'm losing her forever, 

And without really entering her world. 

Slipping through my fingers all the time. 

      I try to capture every minute. The feeling in it. 

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I look in the mirror and smile at all those bits of her that are left inside me. Like her suns of crayons  and paper-cut moons. And all those constellations that she drew for me. I’ve been following those stars ever since. She is entangled in my soul. In my breath. In my skin. But her face has  started to blur through those memories. When was the last that I saw of her? I don’t seem to  remember. It’s been quite some time. But even when she’s afar, I tell myself, she still smiles through the photo album. At least. I thumb the pages. I try to hold on to her. I rewatch her favourite movies, flip through her favourite books. 

But she keeps on slipping away. 

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Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture.

And save it from the funny tricks of time. 

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There is so much of her inside me. Yet so much of the void is still left to be filled. There might  be times when I don’t see her. When she runs a bit too far in the meadows. Dancing somewhere  in the soft glows of the dawn. But I can always hear her faint echoes floating in the air. I breathe  this air, in the hope of reaching her. Someday. 

Until then, she watches me from afar. 

That funny little girl.