Thursday, September 15, 2011

To a Daughter Leaving Home

by Linda Pastan



When I taught you

at eight to ride

a bicycle, loping along

beside you

as you wobbled away

on two round wheels,

my own mouth rounding

in surprise when you pulled

ahead down the curved

path of the park,

I kept waiting

for the thud

of your crash as I

sprinted to catch up,

while you grew

smaller, more breakable

with distance,

pumping, pumping

for your life, screaming

with laughter,

the hair flapping

behind you like a

handkerchief waving

goodbye.

3 comments:

  1. Loved this poem when my dad first gave it to me; love it now. We're all that 8 yr old, aren't we.
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  2. Oh. Time flies and takes one's breath away, doesn't it? Your daughter is lovely.

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  3. We had one leave home to start a new school year in September... quite a strange feeling indeed. I suppose we'll get used to it. Maybe ?

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Hey, thanks for your thoughts and your time:>)