When you were a baby, learning to fly,
You couldn’t control your lightness.
We never had a moment’s peace.
We kept the windows closed all summer.
But you were happy. Everyone said,
Enjoy this,
He’ll learn and forget how
By the time he’s old enough to walk.
And they were right.
By then, it was all a story we told:
When you were a baby, learning to fly,
You flew back and forth between your mother and I.
The Sun, March 2001
robertdanberg 