The Weight of Love
She stands on the porch
Watching the swing lift the golden haired beauty into the air
Her heart beating to the pattern of bouncing curls.
She stands on the sidewalk
Forcefully willing herself to let go of the handlebars
Her life wobbling down the concrete on crooked tires.
She stands on the corner
Following the path of pink sneakers up the grooved bus steps
Her miracle smiling back from the dusty double window.
She stands in the driveway
Shaking harder than the aging Ford’s broken glove compartment
Her blood tingling in fear for the maiden journey.
She stands in the bleachers
Clapping till her skin burns tight and tears sting her face
Her life’s work leaving the stage clutching a furl of white.
She stands in the aisle
Gazing as a cloud of white taffeta floats just past her reach
The core of her being cinched for the loss.
They stand by the bed
Counting every finger, toe, and dimple of their tiny wonder
Their love reflected in his gleaming dark eyes and impish grin.