A poem.
Against ambition
Little does she know day by day
I, too, am learning how to crawl.
Beckoned to the joy that glistens
in her gums. My sweet Penelope.
And though I try to hide it, this
leash around my neck that ends
at something or someone always
somewhere else, when she starts
with a smile from the far, far side of the carpet – just as happy to retreat in the effort to advance –
she reaches me at last and reaches
out to put her finger on a button.
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