Like Water Through My Hands
Secrets,
moments shared:
The kicking grasshopper in your tiny hand,
The dandelion before you wished and blew,
The brilliance of sea-washed stone before it dries,
The silky down of milkweed seed,
A paper message folded small.
“All things are transitory.
They never stay.
They appear, only to fade away.”
Memories, like cloud shadows,
passing, never really there.
Or, maybe,
like seeds
only waiting.
