Wednesday, July 01, 2015

when I look down

when I look down,
I remember the tug,
pull, cling,
of fat baby fists curled
around my shirt tails,
eclipsed under
the soft curves of my body;
hope twinkling,
up, up, up,
on the cusp of breaking
every day,
so close,
so close,
almost ready,
everyone said.
because it was time
to let go
and all I wanted to do
was grab those perfect
round rolls,
and hold them forever,
cupped in my palm,
like the delicate
fleeting things
that they are,
slipping away
grains eroded
by the passing day.
when I look down,
I remember,
she's grown
and run away.

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