I didn’t see change
through her eyes
until we were right
at the precipice.
Perhaps it’s a sign
of her age that she
cannot see beyond
tomorrow. Perhaps
it’s a sign of my age
that I believe I can.
In any event, this
change is upon us,
and to her it feels
like a keen death,
so I sing all of the
best lullabies I know:
of Winnie the Pooh
and starry windows
to heaven, and then
the one about crying
when you need to.
And so we do.
