Wasn't it You?
Wasn't it you,
who, at bedtime
used to kiss me long and hard on the mouth,
your pudgy arms barely reaching around my neck?
And didn't you
always leap from chairs,
low walls, the fourth stair up,
confident that I would catch you in my arms?
I feel sure you
when I went out of sight,
around the corner into the kitchen.
Though your brothers did that, too.
I know for a fact
that, one day, I planted you
in the chair in the farthest corner of preschool,
so you couldn't catch up with me when I ran out of the room.
Now, today, you
breeze past me and
march onto the Kindergarten bus,
without a backward glance. And later, when I pick you up
at daycare, you'll duck under my outstretched arms.
And at night,
when I put you to bed,
you pull the covers over your head and shriek,
But I pull up
your shirt and plant one
between your shoulder blades,
where you can't reach to wipe it off.
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