Childhood Fears

I see her now, small on the swings,

my niece, laughing, where joy softly clings.

Yet in my heart, a shadow it brings,

a scream of quicksand, child’s fear that still stings.

I remember the tales, that sinking so slow,

where every flinch made the fear overflow.

They told me it waits, just hidden below,

a trap of my mind, still holding me low.

Yet the sand feels safe as she digs with delight,

a child’s shovel half-buried, in sun’s warming light.

What is a fear, but a thought taking flight?

The truth of the ground—there’s nothing to fight.