little boy lost.

by saracrolick

little boy lost

I know you were waiting for me.

Little penguin chest puffed high.

Cap tilted. Smile rehearsed.

An eager tassel waving hellos long before tiny hands could rise to greet the crowd.

I know you were waiting for me.

Nervous little fidgets.

Buttons twisting. Smile withstanding.

The pull of reluctant fabric and the dancing of disbelieving eyes.

I know you were waiting for me.

My little porcelain child.

Hazels.

My hazels. Your hazels.

Ceramic hazels, gleaming.

I knew you were waiting for me.

The young mother full of good intentions.

But I made you wait.

I know you were waiting for me.

My fragile, darling boy.

When they called your name, I was moving to you; I was moving so-quickly to you; I couldn’t get to you.

I couldn’t get to you in time.

And I’m sorry if that moment changed you.

Little boy lost.

I took you in with arms and eyes.

You shook with the memory of a fading pain.

Sweet skin tarnished; streaked with the language of a little boy’s greatest fear.

She isn’t coming. She isn’t here.

She isn’t coming. She isn’t here.

She isn’t coming. She isn’t here. 

I wasn’t there.

Tiny heart sinking. Little chest heaving. Perfect face cringing.

I know you were waiting for me.

I made you wait.

My little boy lost.

 

 

[image: you were waiting]

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