Posted in Poetry

when i'm five she says

i will be a big girl.

when i'm five, she says

i will sleep in my own bed

     in my own room.

when i'm five, she says

i will know how to swim

     and i will not be afraid of the deep water

     and i will jump off the diving board

          just like william, who is five.

     and one night

          before the milestone is reached,

i don't need to nurse any more she says

i am almost five and five-year-olds don't nurse.

not quite five years of intimacy at my breast

terminated by this childishly mature announcement

     a little thrill, because she's so grown

     a little guilt, because I've longed for these words

          mostly a piercing poignance -

how can she be five years old?

so I cry a little

     and we fall asleep holding hands.

because she's not five yet.

{Copyright (c) 2005 C. Paden. All rights reserved.}