Nancy Doesn't Live Here Anymore

On a crisp May morning
in an old black car
I held you close

so small, so pink, so crying,
so mine that I cried too
never wanting you to grow

Babbling, sucking, creeping, touching
and smiling your navy blue-eyed smile
you toddled a little away from me
and grew

Faster, faster
the years took you...
two, four, six, eight, ten

Thirteen...
the adolescent age
of knowing better than mom
suddenly... you're gone 
believing in your naiveté
that someone else
loves you more

and I cry remembering
so mine - so gone
I never wanted you to grow


Barbara Gari Serio, Copyright, 1997