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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Michael’s Last Day of Preschool

The children run around the legs
of their mothers.
Their voices just above the ground,
part of the fresh grass,
as many flowers as eyes.
Preschoolers going to kindergarten
in the fall,
after the shooting stars of summer,
sultry shade,
time pausing in the gardens.

The inaudible sigh of the last day.
Islands ahead.
So many farewells undreamed of yet.
The last day of the last time,
and a faraway day of forever
which the children cannot see or know.
Or the busy mothers talking
above their heads.

But Papa sees the leagues,
the distances, the goodbyes.
A life of last days and beautiful hellos,
places they’ll see.
Michael chasing after friends,
how shiny the coin of his happiness.
And the sign inside me,
the last day of school,
like all last days,
taken by the wind,
and given away.

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