Saturday, November 6, 2010


You walk with me,
and hold my hand...tightly.
Slow stumbling steps that once walked tall.
Still with pride and strength and purpose.
The strong hand of a strong man that once pulled me up;
wiped away my tears from bruised knee and broken heart,
now shakes as it writes; I love you, daughter...
on that dime-store Christmas card.
I see you with tattered bow and worn heart...
tired from the many heartaches,
yet full of love and hope.
I see you as you were,
and as I was...
Forever the little girl in dress of Blue,
wild hair of Red with Pink ribbons cascading,
caught up and tangled like the old swing in that park by the lake.
You in that summer shirt the color of lemonade with the scent of Old Spice or Brut,
or whatever we could afford to buy you that year.
Years passed ...
memories of fishing on the lake at dusk,
as you fought off the mosquitoes and I fought off over-anxious suitors...
boys with the smell of sweat and car engines
and the swagger of would-be Romeos searching for their Juliet.
Those Summers passed too quickly and the Winters were never-ending.
As life passed too quickly as well...
and I hold your hand just once more,
afraid to let go.
Knowing that it's late and it's time to go.

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