Just after the crack of dawn,
As the sun spills its golden light,
a suitcase stands by the door,
announcing the journey to come.
I watch, heart swelling—
each beat echoing years of laughter,
bicycle rides, scraped knees, soccer games,
the weight of dreams woven
into the fabric of this moment.
I see my son, now a man,
gazing forward into the horizon,
eyes bright with the promise of the unknown.
I remember the first steps,
the tentative dance of growing up,
and how each fall became a lesson
wrapped in a parental embrace.
With every reflection, pride unfurls
like a flag raised high against the sky—
an unspoken bond, strong and steady.
“Go,” I say, though the word is heavy,
a bittersweet weight upon the tongue.
“Explore, chase your dreams,
find your own rhythm in this world.”
In that command, there’s a surrender,
a release of the tether
that has held us so close.
Yet even if the distance stretches,
that link will never really fray,
only strengthen with each mile.
I fight the urge to pull you back,
to gather all the memories,
to pause the moment just once more;
but I know this is the course of life—
the letting go, the becoming,
a cycle as old as time itself.
© 2024, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.