Parental Leave

We were buried here together

When you and I were young

Down in the noisy dark beneath

Where our barefoot children play

In the grass above our heads.

 

One day when their faces

Are no longer round and smooth

They will leave the grassy place

That our bodies grew for them

To go we know not where.

 

And when the sounds above have ceased

We will emerge, blinking in the sun.

Not them the busy world forgot

But something new, and old, and just

As changed as our children.

 

You will brush the dirt from my white hair

I will clean the soil from

The smiling creases of your face

And we’ll go together, hand in hand

Into the life that comes after life.


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