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