Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Five Years















Five years is a breath.
We only met a moment ago—
I'm certain.

Five years is your hand in mine.
I might be clutching it tighter than you are,
but don't tell anyone
how scared I am.

Five years is my shadow
merged with yours,
about to be pulled apart year by year
until you become your own.

Five years is small.
Small enough to sit in my lap.
Small enough for me to lift.
Small enough to still hug me
before you say goodbye.
You may not need it.
But I do.





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