POEM & PHOTO BY: MARA HASENSTAUB
I wonder where you are going
and what you’re doing way up,
Are you late or on time,
are you busting through the door
to catch me, mid sprint
Winded at the sight of your arms,
collapsing into particles of dust,
catching my breath to realize
that you’re already gone.
Wherever you are,
I hope it’s an everlasting golden hour.
I hope that you remain there,
present and laughing;
asking me the same 50 questions
just one more time.
You know that I know
all of the answers.