Now that we're at the end of NaPoWriMo, I'm all caught up!
If she cups her hands over her eyes
I cease to exist. And if I am lucky
I do, disappearing into the sun of her smile
like a balloon tethered to nothing,
which makes it easier to watch the years
float away, rise in her giggles
at the end of the day
like a woman coming home after work,
indebted for those little pleasures
that rise to hug your neck so tight
you wonder if it all
just might break.