8
As he turns eight
I hope he’ll never know
all of the meaning imbued in him:
the thing that chains me to you for the next decade;
the unexpected irony that kept us together
while simultaneously, definitively, driving us apart.
I hope he’ll only remember
separate homes and shared time
being the June Gemini baby
to a mother who couldn’t handle the heat
but loved him with all the fire in her heart.
6/7/26
3 thoughts on "8"
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This poem keeps us at the top of the slide until the last two lines free us to come down. Very well done.
This is beautiful thank you for sharing!
Superb write! I really enjoyed it!