“Mom, Mom,
Hey, Mom”
Her sing-song voice
Is carried to me
On a breeze.
I turn to see her,
Arms splayed, hands with palms upturned,
As she spins,
Stumbling in the summer sun.
Her hair, in long plaits,
Is flung out behind her.
The purple ribbons
Have come undone
And cling, precariously.
Giggling,
She stretches her hands out to me.
Her giddiness is irresistible
And I reach out, laughing, to her.
As I close my hands,
Over her tiny fingers,
I fully grasp the nothingness,
And open my eyes,
Once more,
To the emptiness.
