Learning to walk

with small hands wrapped around
a father’s thumbs,
looking out onto a horizon
of -things-
yet undefined to a young mind
move to the edges
sounds and things,
as destinations.

Mommy claps.

Just yesterday, you would have lunged
on all fours,
but today you took that step
foot slung forward
slightly sideways,
and unsure of the placement of it.

Daddy holds on,

as a stride begets another,

and wanting to drop to the floor
you hang on to the moment
and balance
to repeat what you have learned.

Tomorrow, you run.

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