How many times have I pulled out of your driveway

Unable to stop my chest from aching?

This dull ache….

I don’t know why it never ceases. 

We don’t look at each other. 

Just hand off our forlorn son,

Much like a wilted head of cabbage. 

Our son, with clear, confused eyes,

Our sad, somber trophy.

And if ever I could traverse the space of time

I would readily reclaim

That first delicate kiss

you so tenderly bequeathed.