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