It
IT
IT resides there,
hidden,
beneath a corner
of my heart.
Sharp barb of
parental
growing pains
piercing
the joy
of youthful
immortality.
IT took up residence
on the day
she nestled
in my arms
sleepily succumbing
to trust,
tiny hands
clutching calloused
fingers.
IT has remained
in residence,
tucking more barbs
beneath that corner
of my heart.
Footsteps
growing up,
moving on,
coming home,
asking:
“What is IT
this pain,
this torment,
of first days,
long nights?”
Learning that IT,
the sharp barb
of parental growing pains,
has taken up residence.
©9/15/2017
submitted to – Fear II – Poetry Contest
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2017
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