You left that morning,
your soft steps
echoing through the house.
As you pulled your jacket on,
you tried to stop
the rough fabric from waking us.
Behind the wall
I was there.
But you didn't see me
like I saw you.
You didn't know I was there,
watching you as you
slept,
stepped,
ran
away from us.
I knew it would happen,
I could have stopped you.
But you were happy,
for once, you were happy
I could tell.
Halfway up the hill,
you smiled
as you looked back at our house.
I couldn't stop you
if you needed to go.
Friday, August 22, 2008
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4 comments:
who is this about?
I'd rather not say, it's kind of personal.
I'd rather not say. It's just kind of personal.
Whoops, sorry. I hate it when it prints my comments twice! Oh well.
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