oh little one

a poem of barefoot joy

Some poems arrive with thunder. This one arrived mid-scroll.

I haven’t written a poem in two months. Usually, I write three a month. I was waiting for that flicker—that bolt of inspiration. Today, it found me. Unexpectedly. While scrolling through a mutual follower’s feed.

There was a photo with a simple caption. Something about it stopped me mid-scroll. And just like that, the lines started to form. A poem showed up.

Thank you to the special person who unknowingly lit the spark.

I’m Sarah—someone standing at the edge of university life, with a camera, some scraps of inspiration, and a head full of stories. If you're into design, writing, or figuring things out as you go, I’d love your company (and your feedback!) on this unfolding journey.

i see a little girl in a frock,
one who can barely talk,
a magical little life she’s beginning to walk.

her hair in tiny space buns on her head,
leaving small footprints where she’s tread.

happiness radiant on her face,
as she waddles with childlike grace.

one barefoot step at a time,
she discovers the world, a poem that rhymes.

little baby toes digging into the soft earth,
her chubby hands clutching dandelions, giving them worth.

the scent of flowers and fresh rain lingers,
being barefoot is what she prefers.

she runs through puddles,
not bothered by splashes of mud and pebbles.

she begins her exploration,
everything new to her, gazed at with adoration.

she feels rough bark and soft petals,
her fingers tracing patterns on rocks so gentle.

then, when she thinks she’s walked enough,
she plops onto the damp earth with a little dramatic huff.

her fist opens, and a worm falls out,
a giggle escapes at her mother’s surprised shout.

she starts babbling away in a language only her mother can decipher,
her daughter’s soft giggles fill her heart and make her day brighter.

she lays back drowsily on the grass, humming to nature’s tune—
the melody of birdsong,
the rustle of leaves,
the buzzing of bees,
as the sun sets low, casting shadows in the afternoon.

“time to go,” her mother calls as she picks her up with a kiss on the cheek,
“oh, what a mess you’ve made of yourself,” she says with a smile, squeezing her tight and making her squeak.

she sees beauty and fun where others do not,
the earth is her playground, the perfect spot.

oh little one, stay blissfully unaware,
don’t start to care about your clothes or your hair.

oh little one, may you never chase the views,
of likes and comments, they distort what’s true.
let your worth not be defined by the screen,
but by the love and joy you’ve always seen.

oh little one,
stay forever unbothered,
keep splashing in the puddles,
and let the world be discovered.

oh how I wish,
your fleeting innocence,
could forever stay,
and never fade away.

oh little one,
hold onto your joy, your endless play,
may you never lose the wonder,
that fills you every day.

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This was my first time sharing a poem here—or anywhere else. I welcome your feedback. Let me know what you thought of this poem and if you'd like more to show up here from time to time.

Thank you for reading all the way through—it means more than you know. If you felt something, learned something, or even just want to help me get better at this whole writing-and-designing-my-way-through-life thing, I’d love for you to subscribe, share a thought, or leave a gentle critique. Every bit of feedback helps me grow.