I was thinking this evening about Starlight Dances and Mars Tokyo – the latter’s empty nest and the former’s soon to be emptying one. I wrote this poem for them, and all the other parents on my friends list.
She used to turn to wave
a few steps from the car;
and when the journey off
lasted more than a day,
I’d get a short phone call
when it was time to turn
off the lights and say ‘nite.
But now, her turns take more
time; and often, she fails
to blow a last kiss back
as her beau’s car rolls them
off. This month, she makes one
more turn, her sense of self
spinning larger circles
beyond the range of my
door; as she grows each day,
turning heads when she smiles
(that bright smile that used to
melt just my fragile heart)
I feel her turn away:
she turns eighteen so soon.
14 AUG 2003
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