This is a fine piece, very much to my liking. I want to respond with something of my own, but I find myself unable to. When I first began reading, I thought to say: the inner child is to be protected, not killed; it is the one who plays hide-and-seek with it that must be killed—the one who twists childhood to its advantage, who manipulates you into seeing the purest part of yourself as a foe. But as I read further, I saw that you had already touched on this. Your poem is not her burial, but her resurrection. You drew it forth like a vision in a crystal ball. Truly fine poetry.

Where have you been? I missed my friend—if you still are.