Through Windows – 5

Those small hands 
Touching glass, smearing 
Seeing all of it; 
Five years old and on a plane 
For the first time, traveling 
With his family 
To see grandparents 
Far away 

The hours spent 
In such diversions 
As make possible 
A long flight for one so young. 
I still remember them all: 
And what it felt like 
Or seemed to feel like 
In his eyes. 

My sweet child 
Who I love with all I am, 
But still lost

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