Sunsets in rearview mirrors
we notice then drive off into the future;
the golden moment morphs orange
and is extinguished as we turn.
The past is over our shoulders
the instant we cross it;
no two sunsets the same, though
the next we take for granted.
While I still can, I u-turn and loop again,
exerting control over this moment
so my daughter can get a better shot;
soon, she’ll too leave my nest.
Lots of what I hoped to instill
seems to have slipped through
the sieve-holes of time,
but this hobby I’ve shared
I think will remain
as a tie that mother-daughter binds.
I take my own shot
of the second shot at
making subtle pleasant memories,
freezing the golden and the orange
to develop and hold
when we are both older;
I hope we grow closer
in this future I turn to again
and hesitantly proceed.
Sunsets in rearview mirrors.
Years later, I sigh nostalgically,
holding my grandbaby’s hand
and tearing up over her mother
with the requited affection
that the years since her teens did bring.
Sunsets in rearview mirrors:
never let go of the more
that they may someday be.