Fly. You Must.
These years are
Not enough. There
Is so much I’d hoped
To teach you, to tell
You. And yet,
You will choose
Your teachers and tellers
Now. My place, if it was ever really mine, has
Changed. Instead
Of being
The teacher and the teller,
I am
Now the listener
Who has grown old. But
In my age I have grown
Proud of all you have
Become. Eighteen years and now
You fly. You must.
But visit me
From time to time
And I will learn to
Listen well. And I will
Love you always. These years
Are not enough, and they
Passed by so very fast.
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