I wish I knew how long this tiny hand
will cling to mine. The lamplight overhead
reveals some fascinations which demand
investigation. What was it she said?
She’s got her daddy’s legs. She’s right; they’re strong
enough to keep her balance on the line
between the light and shadow. Is she wrong?
She falls into the light; the fault is mine.
I wiggle loose to see if she can stay
upright. And yet she doesn’t seem to mind;
she crawls to her objective, straightaway.
She’s there and I am just a step behind.
She pauses to investigate, and then
she reaches up to take my hand again.