Because I walk you to the door
not from it
surrender is expected.

Days have avalanched,
pages of story of photographs
you wanting to run
so fast
wanting to be big
bigger than your perfection.

And now
at the door
childhood seems so long ago
and for a few moments
you linger
as if considering retreat.

You can return at any time.
The treasures you left
will be ready.

By Gillian Swain, 2020