Memories From the Piazza.

Sweet titters hang as she dances Spinning and prancing down the stairs Puddled footprints where she danced In avarice as she eyes her dripping path As mother grips her hand ever tighter Awash with sadness I felt the protection And how I have none from you You burned white hot across my soul Leaving a soft ash that slowly petrified And as I watched mother and daughter I could feel your fingers slipping away Catching your glance as you walked away I hoped there would be a lone tear for me Yet finding only a hint of regret.