Voices

There’s a certain softness to her gait. Each breathe a measured smile.
She makes soft yellow rose petals jealous, filled with envy all the while.
Cocksure, certain no hint of mistake. Her life bounds up and on, no need to brake.
But late at night with dreams still far away, to herself alone she dreads the morn’s day.

What to do where and why, what to share with who and when
it was so much easier way back then.
That first kiss that first race of heart
the first distance at times apart.

I’m your guardian, that inner voice, together we started this trip by and by
That voice inside your mind’s eye, the stuffed animal that never asks why.
But with each step I slow, while your travel speeds
Soon I’ll disappear for you and you alone to find your needs.

I saw that first time you raced and fell, nicked your knee
I was there when your parents bid you off to go with me.
That first clumsy step in heels high
That first frightened touch- dazed no need to wonder why
Soon my dear we shall say goodbye.

She makes soft yellow rose petals jealous.

———–Stanley Cohen 7th June 2015

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