Today I watched memories
And learned the poetry of a little boy and a little girl
Sitting too close
With heads leaned in talking too loud.
Two eight year olds
Laughing on the jungle gym.
He reached out his hand and stood up
He giggles, and whispers something I don't quite catch, but
He does.
Catch her.
They jump off, he goes first to grab her hand when she wobbles.
And I hope
Their nine won't be the same as mine.
With a boy, leaning in
But no trust from me.
Leaning in to demonstrate this
New kiss.
I don't.
Kiss him.
He runs off, yelling that he was just playing
And I know
He never meant it.
But for now I'm finding solace in little girls trusting the little boy
To grab them when they wobble.
