At the top of the stairs
I ask for her hand. O.K.
She gives it to me.
How her fist fits my palm,
A bunch of consolation.
We take our time
Down the steep carpetway
As I wish silently
That the stairs were endless.
- Pretty simple. This poem makes me imagine the tough job a parent must face in letting there children grow-up, make their own mistakes and venture off out into the world...
1 comment:
The trust a child shows in his parent is humbling. Each time my boy holds my hand it reminds me how much he trusts me to protect him and guide him through each of his doubts, particularly when he would rather be independant. The staircase doesn't end as a child never really stops reaching out for their parent's hand through life.
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