I lift you up,
as far as my arms will allow and when these old, time-capsule tendons have reached their breech readied to rip apart I stretch a little more and let go of my heart. You land solid, confident, sure-footed. I watch you run. I watch you run so fast grabbing every taste as though it’d be your last and I am so fulfilled so thrilled to see you free. You are already more than I could ever be and that is a fact-checked timesheet a testament and trophy I’ll take to the grave with me when my clock runs out. I hope you’ve watched every move I have ever made in your shadow. I hope to have left a trail for the sunless days when life feels too long too shallow. Bread crumbs that the birds won’t eat so you may see where to place your feet and follow my steps back home or wherever you need to be. I hope you stand tall full of zest and zeal for the Universe will test you mess with you make you crumble and fall. I hope I have shown you the best locale for your walls and where to keep your ladders. I lift you up, as far as my arms will allow and when these old, time-capsule tendons have reached their breech readied to rip apart I stretch a little more and let go of my heart.
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AuthorMolly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw. Categories |