Co-parenting
The rhythm of the hallway clock
Counts down the hours to the key,
The sudden turning of the lock
That brings the world back home to me.
Your laughter spills across the floor,
A messy, bright, and breathless flood,
And every ache I held before
Dissolves within the pulse of blood.
But love is heavy, love is deep,
It demands the marrow and the bone;
I guard the secrets that you keep,
And lose the light that was my own.
So when the quiet car arrives
To take you to that other shore,
I sever where our spirit thrives
And gently close the heavy door.
I build a wall of glass and air,
A necessary, cold retreat,
To find the person standing there
Beyond the toys and tired feet.
It isn’t that I love you less,
Or crave the silence of the hall,
But to survive the tenderness,
I must not feel it all.
I pull the tether loose and wide,
A ghost within my own domain,
Until the turning of the tide
Brings back the sun, brings back the rain.
And when you’re gone, I breathe again,
A hollow vessel, calm and free,
So I can be the strength you claim
When you return to fill the sea.