Wednesday, May 22, 2013

22 may



It was with no small grin that he approached
my desk
                nearly ready to rock
                                                                back
                                                                                forth
                                                on his heels
                                                                                toes                      
“While you were gone—“
                                                                he began,
dashing a glance to my windowsill garden,

                “I thought you should know,”

and here I wondered
                as he paused
so I guessed—
                                                way, way off—

“I watered my plant myself.”
                He nodded, confirming.

I repeated, to confirm.
                                Agreed.
                Beaming.

“I’m proud of you,”
                                I offered, proud.
He accepted, proud

“That’s all I wanted,” he said.

                Water me, we say.

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