even with stolen poems

lost from early morning tears

(and no sign of lattes in sight)

i’ve found my daughter 

waiting behind the burgeoning dawn

with her gumption in her palm

ready to take over the world
i carry them in the back of my mind

as green grasses give way to fall

in a burst of golden red peaks

that hide the city skyline 

from a cloudless day
my girls, shared beds, shared worldview 

nearly-perfect grades but better yet…

nearly-perfect playmates

to everyone they meet
they make my steps easier

on these long days into night

when all we want to find

is the poem we lost before dawn