That twelve-year-old I knew

She jogs beside me, this child so sweet,
I knew her well, a long time ago.
We look ahead most of the time,
But share little smiles as we go.
Does she like me at all, I wonder now?
Her approval really matters.
Does she think I’ve done all right?
I wish she’d stop and chatter.
She’s strong this girl, she’ll go quite far,
If she is encouraged along the way.
Look how lithe her limbs, how fast her pace,
Someone should guide her, I pray.
I look again, and see young dreams shine,
Of horses and gymkhana races.
There it is then, her twelve-year dreams,
Written on both our faces.
In the forty years that separated us,
Life happened in its stead.
Dreams denied, young plans just died,
New ideas planted in her head.
Should I say sorry now, apologise to her,
For not fighting harder for those dreams
But she looked up then and smiled at me,
I saw acceptance in her beams.
My twelve-year self, was ok, thank God,
With what I had done with her own life.
A middle-class woman, now middle aged,
A mother and a wife!