At Her Father's Feet

She sat cross-legged on the ground, a little girl at her father’s feet.

He had to leave. So she walked him to the door

And locked it behind him.

Up the stairs she flew, barging down the hallway and into her room.

Her breath fogged up the glass as she tracked the red car,

Strained to watch it

As long as possible

As it disappeared

Around the corner.

He never saw her waving goodbye.

She sat cross-legged on the ground, a little girl at her father’s feet.

She didn’t have to strain to see

The headstone. 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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