new shoes

here, looking into your eyes, time stands still

and then it doesn’t

as new shoes in new sizes fly through my fingers

and your legs are so absurdly long

and I say 

“can you just stay four”

and you laugh and say 

“everybody has to become an adult, mom”

and I know—I know—you’ll be such a good adult

but I’ll miss you. 

Dear Self

On Risk