I chased down the bustling road
when I caught a glimpse of her walking down.
Today I stand, impatient;
my finger thumping a pithy tune,
as she climbs down the stairway,
one step at a time.
Time capsules are concealed
in objects that we rarely see,
and only notice when silence visits
and sits in the middle of the room,
unpleasently.
Today was on such day,
when my foot accidentally brushed
a tea cup that had bravely withstood,
the anomalies of my childhood,
and leaning back on its broken handle
took delight,
on my sudden emotional plight.
After years of unrelenting boundaries
the yearning to jump over,
turns into the ultimate goal.
Definace, with a vengence,
and fury so grave,
mars conscience by its senstaions,
makes it depraved.
Forgone was the leap
that bound my heart with rules
of love, loyatly and frienship,
for it now only understood,
the twinge of ache it gained
whenever it recognized,
a then familar face.
In a world fantastical,
there is order and right.
And mistakes are begotten
to only be forgotten
and set some memories aside.
I held my hand out,
on the last stair, she looked up,
and in brown eyes, just like mine,
I saw days that now defined,
our relationship,
as mother and daughter.
We talk of far shores and setting sail,
with our two feet firmly rooted in the bay.
The anchors aren't pulled, the rigs aren't checked,
we are rarely ready, if ever,
at our fancy's behest.
In the seconds that she took to step down;
seconds in which I re-lived a lifetime,
I ran down the same road,
the bustling street with the same goal.
I held my mother's hand
and let go.
