Pockets

I am a nomad.
I am a nomad & you –
you are my people.

My young life
spent wandering
city to city
one new school after the next.

New faces
New rules
No handbook.

Inevitably
my tribe grew.
It includes all of you
All of you and more.

You occupy pockets in time
each with it’s own sacred place in my heart.
Photos and memories and bits of paper, squirreled away
Fiercely protected.

Do not mistake the quiet for disregard.
I cheer your successes –
happily watch your families grow.
I cry for your loss.

Today it is also mine.

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