You bound in my door, banging screen into begonias.
“Auntie! There is this thing –
And I want to do –
And can we make –
And can I read – ?”
I want to throw my head back in laughter, and I do,
because you are like a train engine,
pulling cars full of ideas,
cars full of plans,
rolling along on tracks made thick with joy.
I didn’t know you had been missing from our days
until you came, child.
I didn’t know you would be
exactly what I’d need.
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