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I used to watch your tiny face

mesmerised by something so small

so consumed by what you were

and what you were to become.

I couldn't imagine you any other way

- other than the tiny life

that found comfort

in laying in the dip of my thighs

- your head tilted back,

your feet kneading my stomach,

my knees supporting your head.

And I sat so still,

watching your wrinkly little fingers

grasping at things I could not see.


You would cry if you weren't acknowledged,

demand attention, 

a soothing voice

- a glance.

'Don't forget me!' you'd scream,

chin dotted with indignation.

You'd kick your booties off,

clench your fists

until your knuckles were white,

white with fear,

fear that I couldn't hear your demands.

But you needn't have worried

I always heard

and I will always listen.


I believed you depended on me,

in ways only I knew.

I hope you know now

that I depend on you too.

You don't know it,

but you made me a promise

in the way you allowed me to

stroke your hair,

to feed you

and hold you close.

You as a child,

me wishing I was younger,

just to be a little closer,

before either of us got too old.


And now here we are,

you kept your promise.

You no longer scream for attention,

you never even ask.

But you are a pillar,

you are home.

You mean safety,

recognition in a world of unease.

A reminder that I am capable of love

no matter how fast time passes,

no matter how much we change.

And if you need to figure out

what you were grasping for,

remember - I'm listening.

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