Sunday, September 27, 2020

short bread

the little kid
next door, 
who i call short bread,
is already
too tall.
already
finding her true self.
now shy,
and careful with the wave.
no more howdy
neighbor,
no longer cheerful,
the parents have seen 
to that. fast on
her bike as she speeds
by,
and then at last
in a few years, a car,
that will take her
places beyond
this street,
somewhere far,
the strollers 
at last,  put away,
the quickening of life
swift
before your eyes.

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