Grow To Leave

By Shelley Debartolo

Grow To Leave.

I used to scrunch up dirt holes

On the curves and edges of the flower beds,

Dunking my head in the descending darkness.

You’d have a little visit

By my own house, taking time

Away from a bittersweet life,

Handing me over a chewable plushie.

Sometimes I’d sit at the wall

Next to your room listening to your notes,

Or times when we played near the sprinkler

And I whip around making a water fiasco.

It’s possible for me

To be so near you everyday,

Watching you help pour the tea at breakfast,

Your hands reach down to me.

I stood by your bed one night to have a peep.

Strangely I could only give you a frail whine

As you ripped a scribbled paper.

I wish I could tell you:

‘’It’s me, I haven’t left you, I’m well, I’m fine, I’m here.’’

You were once never this busy as you 

Pull into the driveway,

It emptied out my fuel that I can’t 

Make it towards the house if you fumble.

Memories floating, moments seemingly captured,