Tiny hands awaiting greatness

Grasping,

reaching,

touching.

Hands,

you discovered your hands.

You joined them in a dance,

then let them fall to your sides

like leaves in a free fall.

You tug with eagerness

at your colorful toy.

You coo to it and to me.

Red, orange, green, polka dots, and stripes,

make your eyes light up.

Your lips purse together,

bubbles escape them.

I watch with delight,

as if for the first time

watching a miracle.

You choreograph with your fingers

a dance of discovery and beauty.

What if I forget?

The city I was born in,

my mother's maiden name,

the street I lived on.

Questions,

answers that do not warrant

hesitation,

contemplation,

black and white,

nice and easy.

But what if I forget

one day,

my first pet's name,

my high school boyfriend,

finding the love of my life.

What if it slips away,

like an oar in the river,

like water through my fingers,

like all the yesterdays

built by moments of you and I.

Holding hands,

speaking with our loud voices

at the spark of anger,

dancing in the kitchen,

our laughter echoes in our home.

Silent,

side by side at dawn,

our feet tangled 

in a mess of love,

what if I forget?