We feel free like sparrows in flight.
She teaches me
Just by their leaves, the names of fruit trees;
I tell her life is grand
She tells me only if I can stand
Tall from dawn to night.
We share an apple. I eat the core.
No, no she says, you must spit the seeds
And plant your dreams on barren soil in foreign shores.
I run my fingers through her hair,
Short, combed waves of softness,
She caresses my face,
Long, elegant, beautiful strokes
That paint a utopia we seem to share
We wipe the dust from our feet
Refreshed by the intensity of sprouting dreams
Roots planted a long time ago
Lacing the distance of our hearts.
I’ve missed you, I say.
I’ve missed me too, she says.
And in our reflection of who we want to see
We become the change we want to be
Am I child and she mother?
Or am I mother and she the child?