My youngest and I made our way down a wooded trail to the park.
She ambled ahead in her stumbling gait,
While I tried to catch her, though she wouldn’t wait.
Lagging behind the moment, I shunned the dark
Thought that this is the thoroughfare
Parents pass, pausing before letting go of small hands
And venturing wills that walk a few steps ahead,
Then far away, to distant lands.

But on our way back
I felt comforted when she asked to ride on my shoulders.
I savored her need, sealing it in my mind, ‘cause I know when she’s older
She’ll be bolder
And forsake some of the things I’ve told her.
And, for all my words, I hope she’ll remember this:
I’ll always bear her,
Even once she’s too big to ride on my shoulders.

Posted in Perspective, Poetry