I miss my beautiful boy today.
He's upstate by the river, where it rained last week.
He's sounds happy on the phone.
Nice.
As effusive as when he was six.
I run out of things to say.
I'm unused to this.
I forget to tread on the eggshells.
But my heart is calling out to him
as if he were still six years old
and I'm still looking out for him
and his grazed knees.
I'm silly and I think about the angel tree
watching over him
because I can't.
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