she sees them
two children, maybe there are three,
waiting up ahead.
the tallest one is maybe nine, ten, she's holding
the hand of a smaller girl, maybe six, five
and there' one in the back, it's a boy
the one she didn't see at first,
he's in the grass behind his sisters,
squeaking blades between his fat fingers.
is there a father? she can't tell
sometimes she thinks he's there but at other times
like right now
it's just the children, their father nowhere to be found.
he's not even a memory
he's not even named
as though it will just be her and the children,
but then at other times,
when the sun is bright and she's feeling well-rested,
when she's not feeling so old, so alone, so despairing
she can see him, and he's a partner, he's her partner,
and he's standing beside them, the little boy in his arms
and sometimes seeing them this way makes her heart race
and sometimes it makes her heart ache
and she weeps.