Monday, September 5, 2011

little fingers

i remember
your soft little fingers
buried deep in the flesh
of my palm

our first walk

i remember
the thrill of knowing
that you were mine
and then entirely yourself

my pace slowed
to match yours
until you were older
and your hand rarely met mine
and your pace
matched so well
that we were like
each other's shadows

and talking
about matters so removed
from our immediacy
that i wondered
how you could know
about such things
let alone
talk about them
and it was then
that i looked up
and saw you again
for the first time