Friday Floetry: The Bridge

Straight from the mind while on my grind. Raw observations of my Friday.

The Bridge of Mommies and Daddies

In the middle of the week,
in the middle of the day,
in the middle of the bridge,
I wait.

If I look over my shoulder I’ll see my daddy,
waiting with the other daddies
on their side of the bridge.

I’m in a line too;
a line of kids looking across the bridge
watching the mommies gather
on the other side.

The gigantic clock gongs.
It only gongs once a week.
midday,
mid week,
each week,
to mark The Exchange.

The mommies are ready.
I can see my mommy.
Other kids can see their mommies.

Some kids run toward their mommies.
Some walk slow.
Some kids like mommy week more than daddy week.
Some kids don’t.

I look back at daddy.
He sees mommy too.
He looks at me looking at him
and gives me a half smile.
See you next week he says.
I wave tiny
I’ll miss you.
He waves tiny back.
I’ll miss you too.
I face forward
and walk toward my mommy.
I watch her watch daddy with hard eyes.
Her eyes soften as they find me.
She smiles.

When I reach her
she takes me in her arms
and turns away from the bridge.
I look for daddy.
He’s already gone.

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