Azaylia and I walk through Our own Eden (or as near as this Earth allows) and I explain How seasons change–that unlike My name I carry everywhere, Autumn doesn’t stay with us always– As spring is heating up from The dawn of summer sun’s first rays. Her big crystalline blue eyes Gaze up at me, surprisingly Without glazing over, as if she Understands such complexities Already at the tender age of three.
We spot the flower that inspired Her name, and she reaches a hand Out to pick it. Gently, I take That hand in mine and persuade, “Let’s leave it, okay? That way It’ll be here to visit another day.”
She nods and thoughtfully adds, “Yeah, we want to come back And see it tomorrow.” I don’t explain to her how, Those we admire most, we sometimes Hold on too tight for them to grow.. This is too much for now, I know.
She squeezes my hand And says,“Let’s play!” I return to here and now reality From my rumination and agree, Smiling lovingly, “Okay, Zayli, lead the way!”
