You looked away and I saw your forehead
The way my mothers does when she thinks
I’m not watching.
She wore workout attire from her morning run
and you were in a flowy duster that hung to your knees.
I’m not familiar with the way you embraced-
we’ll meet again- right?
Where do you live again?
I smiled at you as our green eyes met-
glancing down quickly.
The boys were pushing each other in the front room
oblivious to the goodbye.
Our hardwood floors underfoot felt especially cold
despite the humidity that filled our home.
You come and go, bringing the smiley boy along.
There’s a new little girl now-
her grin full of grace.
Next time- please stay.
I noticed you, as I glanced down-
tears filling my eyes-
trying to hide between words spoken-
My arms around her shoulders-
5 inches shorter than mine.
I caught your glance as you watched our embrace.
your emerald eyes.
6 years old.
I watch as you grow- from afar
taking after your mother- solid, soft, tender.
You were the first, officially.
Noise separated our thoughts-
blond boisterous boys brawling-
Miles will not always distance us-
someday, we will stay.
Will you come play?