(Dedicated to my children)

I've carried you beneath my heart,
and now must let you go.
There is no final comfort
in decision; for I know
that you will not remember this,
or me, as I do you.
The years will take you even farther
from my reach, and view.
Now other eyes must cherish you,
and other arms embrace,
and strangers offer solace
for the troubles that you face,
Now other tears will fall for you,
and other voices sing . . .
Yet this I do, that you may never
want for anything;
not even distant echoes
of my weeping as we part,
the name I name you, or the thunder
of my breaking heart.

© Lynette Combs; Virginia Beach, Virginia