I let you go this morning.
I stood in the winter sunlight andwatched you walk away,
towards the plane that
would take you
far from your mother's arms.
Tender bones,
frail and slight in my embrace.
Yet your spirit is stronger than the mighty oak
that rises majestically
in the yard.
Like the oak,
you are reaching towards the stars,
growing away from me.
Tears in my eyes
hide you from me,
or is it the sun's bright rays
as I watch you fly away?
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