And I'm listening
for her footsteps and
the wheels of her suitcase
to pass by our hotel room door.
We have walked miles of city
avenues, swum off rocky coves,
shared grilled fish and tapas,
basked in a foreign sun.
Today she flies home alone-
over a sea,
across two continents
and a wide ocean.
This morning, one hand rests
on my heart,
the other over the space
where she was formed.
No longer can I protect her
with the shield of my body.
To begin as one and separate
into two-how impossible is that.
4:00 A.M. by Carolyn Chilton Casas | Garden Lavender Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
$20.00Price
