I know you always run beside me, barefoot, pointing
at another flower, asking what it’s called.
There are times, I miss that courage that I had to ask,
instead of telling off. that the dandelions
don’t belong on lawns, and blowing fluff is not allowed.
My child, I wish I could fall asleep like you; at will,
instead of counting heartbeats when I need my sleep.
I wish that I could climb in trees, peek-a-boo,
or giggle at a word like pee or poo. I sense your
disappointment… growing up is not accumulating
birthday-gifts, but every day between…
My child, I wish that you will never be adult,
and walk beside me, barefoot, giggling at
the absence of my tedious jokes.
For Karin at toads. A letter of sorts.