For Baby, June 2010
Your mother and I,
baby, we were friends
when it mattered most,
we knew each other
when we didn't know
the first thing about knowing.
Feet in chunky shoes on wooden floors,
muddy and wet, in sandals, toenails
awful-colored -- blues, greens, yellows.
We ruled the world from her bed,
we knew everything,
we hated with passion and
loved each other vaguely.
I couldn't tell you
the first thing
about her hopes
her fears and your father --
but your mother and I,
baby, we love each other
still like children.
All that matters is that we loved
when it mattered most,
when we didn't know
the first thing about knowing.
Copyright © Robin Lane | Year Posted 2010
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