it's still hard to say goodbye for now
knowing that for now I won't see the freckles on your lips,
hear your high laughter, or laze away an afternoon in
on the back porch discussing bad literature.
it won't be the same next time,
you may be resting your head on his shoulder,
I would hope for that even as it won't be on mine.
you are growing up and I, well, you call me
little mama as my bones shrink with age.
you will always look up to me even if you forget sometimes,
I will always have to lift my gaze to look into your eyes.