Listen to this poem using the player above.
A memory of taking my older son to the bus when he was in first grade.
darkness, whispering
he seems too small
to withstand
the yellow
metal embrace
it gathers him in
and he disappears
lost behind the vinyl
seats tall as walls
I try to wave
but he doesn’t see me
so I walk back home
in the pre-dawn
darkness, whispering
softly, to no one,
that’s my little boy
How many times I’ve whispered those words to no one…
Very nice.
Thanks, Matt. Who would have thought we’d be in the same position our parents were in? Well, I guess everyone would have. It still surprises me, though.
sweet.
and I mean that in a good way.
Thank you, Barbara.
This is so sweet! How nice!
Pamela
Thanks, Pamela!