when i was

a little girl

you told me my

smile

held yours.

i'm not sure

how,

exactly,

our happinesses

were

disentangled;

maybe it was

that thing

we call

time

which trundles past

without 

warning

or 

regret

that changed us--

sweet child,

loving mother,

our laughter

falling out of tune,

arrhythmic,

until,

at our discord's

zenith, 

the sound of your

voice

syncopated my

fears,

and the soft 

whisper of your

footsteps

shuffling 

away

mislaid my

tears.

sometimes, then

i thought i

hated you

sometimes, now

it's hard to

look at you

but some more 

time,

permanent and

deathless,

imminent and

fearsome, 

has passed me

by:

my mind has

changed,

and i think

it was

that thing

we call

wisdom

which

is catalyzed by

pain

and manifested in

retrospect.

in the 

shadow of

our conflict,

or,

rather,

its futility,

i am

humbled

by my own

humanity.

my self was a

merciless rapid,

our peace an

innocent lamb.

and though i'm not

really smarter,

not really 

different

my love for you is

tainted,

now, by

wisdom

as well as

time,

those friends

who 

temper each other.

i accept

every good

and 

every bad

part of you;

i can

fathom

how lovely

you are,

and i remember

how you

loved me so;

kept me warm,

dried my tears,

and

winged my dreams

when i was

a little girl.