Mother, Daughter

a single tear glides down her cheek
like a snail out for a walk down the driveway
slow, slow, slow

It’s time, her body knows
but her mind–
her mind longs to wrap the images tight–
a burrito bursting with memories of her children and their milestones.

A breath passes silently between mother and daughter
[the daughter impatiently awaits her freedom in the city of her dreams;
the mother finds all the nooks that just won’t be cozy enough for her child.]

And then it’s time; for certain this time
Trains don’t wait for late mothers,

So she pulls her golden child into her arms–tight
a burrito of love, safety, everything she can’t leave behind

behind the door, a daughter bounces celebrating her liberty for the first time;
behind the door–on the other side–a mother wipes her tears with her t-shirt,
celebrating a new liberty after twenty-four years.



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