when we went walking

step into the sun, you said

it's the sun you need to capture

and every time we stepped

barefoot, carefully,

we had seconds to let it warm our backs

before it slipped

and the shadows found us

so we chased the light.

We live in forests, you and I,

waiting for the cracks in the horizon

weaving our way through

needles bending and touching hard edges,

our shadows the threads trailing behind us

step into the sun you kept telling me

as my skin grew weary and thin

and the memories of you standing at my knee

pulling on my skirt

at the kitchen window

disappeared.

I am trying to keep the light, my son

I remind you

as the flour no longer hits your face

as you're not little anymore

and your shadow thread is so much longer now

but we chase the light

as it fades anyway

I will step into the light one day

and wait for you to find me in it.