Morning (mourning) Walk
My daughter races ahead of me
across the cool grass,
she is laughing,
running on her long legs,
skinny and strong like a young colt,
her hair flashing gold as it shakes about her shoulders,
she looks back at me,
over her shoulder,
I wave and laugh also.
She looks back less and less,
as she slips out of childhood.
When she was a baby
she held me in the awesome power
of her constant attention,
now it is only glances,
and soon,
there will be no glances.
She will have raced far ahead of me,
into the future that belongs to her,
and I will have to learn to laugh
by myself,
again. |
