going west

the hand
you held slips
west, off
to the side
of his own life
as it should
be, out of
the nest
and on wings
towards skies
you haven't
seen, but
have heard of.
it's no
small thing
this courage is
to leave
and find his
own way. there
is no more
packing of a
lunch, tucking
in a shirt,
or tossing
a ball in
the yard while
a summer sun
lingers. his
time has
come and your
hand opens
to let him go.