As a child,
you mystified me, 
letting my brain run wild
with all that could be behind you.
Behind you 
may be a 
world of exploration;
the boldest depths of the universe
all contained behind you.
Just a twist away from
opening you
just to see your contents
but I am too young
they say,
too inexperienced
they say.

And so you tempt me
and as I age,
you captivate me more.
They tell me how close I am
to you, that I
can feel my finger tips on your handle,
but the more I twist,
the harder you stay still,
with your tongue stuck out
in a playful manner,
and I wonder
how I'm considered a child,
but I am too young
they say,
too inexperienced,
they say.

And time flies by
yet, it feels so slow
but I've grown now, 
and I feel ready.
Under the view
of Mr. Mojo Risin,
I am guided down the hallway,
straight to you.
I am older now,
and you should be too
but when I meet you again,
you show no change of complexion: 
I grab you and push,
shove my years of experience 
into you, but 
you don't move~
you laugh and call me names
and I am conflicted,
are these convoluted years
worth the wait?
I fill my head with doubt, 
but I am too young 
they say,
too inexperienced 
they say.

.    .    .

Now I am older.
I have gained my age, 
and I have gained my experience
and you are ready to be opened,
but I know what is behind you now. 
I know why you keep
the same face
and it hurts to know
that the side of you I've 
grown accustom to 
is the side I won't see: 
that your tongue won't be pointing at me,
rather my son
and his and more to come.
If I could tell them
what was behind you
they'd never open you.