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when you could take me for a walk
and tell me a story,
one I heard yesterday,
and the day before.
Not to mention
every day the previous week.

The sun beats down
creating a mirage;
its better to focus on the dry grass
& the faint musk of olives
baking in the heat
& the cicadas buzzing.

I walk slow to keep up
even though I want to explore.
I'm too young to understand
the grief that will come later.
The day where I will no longer be able
to listen to a story
I already heard.

I want to follow you back up the steep hill,
I would like to know you.
I'm not just sad because I'm grieving;
I got so little time to spend with you
& I wasted it being a child.

Perhaps I am being selfish.

Your life was meant for that hill
and it became twisted,
constricted
and difficult.

It was time to join her
& let go of your earthly pains.
I wish I were there for you to wave goodbye to.

I'll hold on to that story
I heard so many times 15 years ago