I take your hand
carefully
gently
firmly
and you flinch momentarily,
You don't like to be led.
You're not mine,
But it's my work to show you,
Some way,
The way to walk.
Nothing's ours she said,
Everything's borrowed,
Time,
Our children.
Try to love what's good,
That's all.
I don't know where my mother got her ideas.
Films I think
These things stick,
Like
I'll always be with you.
I find myself believing
In these borrowed things
These days
More and more.