I watched a pretty young mother
on the asphalt path,
fingers gripping the handles of a stroller,
call after her tiny daughter
as she ran ahead in the grass and carried
the joy of the sun on her shoulders
An afternoon in the park
with a pretty young mother
would have been nice for my little girl
to carry on her way into the world
She spun away on her own,
dashed madly ahead with little to carry
and no mother to chase her down