oblivious

when I see you again,
I won’t say
anything
that comes to mind.

I won’t say look, darling,
look what we made together.
she has my eyes and your ears
and she loves to run by the sea.

I won’t tell you the little things,
like the way she picks me flowers
or how she shares her favorite toys
and how she watches her train set chug by.

I won’t share the photos
of her rosebud mouth
making her sweet joyful smile
and the way her eyes just perfectly find the lens.

I won’t tell you that she is love and light,
the she is made of laughter and music,
that she can hear a wrong note in a song
and how sweet her little voice can be.

I won’t tell you how her eyes
are so deep blue you could fall in
or how her perfect fingers form little fists
when she holds something important.

I won’t share the way she loves
everyone she meets,
and the way they all seem
to love her even more.

I will never say to you,
darling, look how beautiful she is
and look at the person
she’s growing up to be.

I will smile if I have to, and say hello.
I will follow with goodbye as soon as I can,
and I will walk away having never told you
your greatest accomplishment.