This was written this April, 2011
She was but six when she turned a leaf
To show me her first writings.
My well-loved child wrote of spinning drifts of leaves
On windy corners when we took ~together
To her school, our wintery weather city walks.
I was all delight in praise,
But soon she closed her book to me,
Withdrawing with her schoolmates to a turbulance of secrecy.
The whirl was palpable that funnelled her from me
In tight-lipped partial leaving
Following her school's "Abjure ivory towers; socialization is the key,"
Which she took to mean "Focus on classmate socializing in after-school and weekend party revelry."
My child's spirit wafted away when she was only ten.
Only a floundering child still, when she fluttered from the stem.
After many years of probe and search in the torque of time's multiplex turbine
We met again.
And that was when,
With shoulder shrug, hand brushing the air, her breezy answer was given;
She said, "I doubt we can live in the same city together" and did leave again.