To a Daughter Leaving Home

When I taught you

at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for that thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for you life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.

***This is my favorite poem from the book. :)

Citation