NOSTRAND AVENUE, 8:00 AM

High on the feeling

Of new kicks, I bounce

Tigger-tailed, down the block.

A young mother with dyed

Electric blue hair

Passes in the opposite 

Direction. She has presently

Dropped her daughter off

At school. Now

The earlier smile and laughter

Have departed - now 

She is by herself, impassive and silent.

I then realize instantly as I

Remember my own childhood,

The how of what my mom and dad felt,

As though a piece of them had been cut out,

A curottement, the spare part

Set apart for hours, and sorely missed.

The rest of that woman's day I then

Expected would be joyless

Until that golden moment in the afternoon...

[NOTE: This was a difficult poem to write, continuity-wise, but I hope the sentiment resonates with parents. I worked with children for years at a much-loved job, I've always wanted a daughter to beam proudly about, and I'd like to think I have an affinity for parents, most of whom really are, I only so dispassionately observe doing the very best they can. God bless.]