I used to hold his hand – poem by Ali Grimshaw

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Your separation started with a small knot, 
then the winding began.

Strings of storybooks, twined through nights
and days of countless fresh starts, repeating circles.

The looping of stories wound through our shared days. Up and down 
on the life school rollercoaster, back when I used to hold your hand.

Our faces in the wind a side by side scream of surprise
moments you reached out, adding to yourself
adding another layer of becoming.

While some saw mangled routes and loose ends 
I envied your brave expanding, overlapping leaps 
of curiosity to solidify your center.

Now you roll down new streets
with layers of perseverance over boyish charm
a masterpiece touching lives I will never meet.

I hope you never stop winding over that small knot,
tied while I watched.

© Ali Grimshaw 2021

This poem is dedicated to my two amazing sons. I am grateful to be your mother.

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