You must have been there
to tickle his toes and give him
a hardy “Bon Voyage”
He had to have seen your face,
felt your touch as he lay in your arms
before his departure.

Less than a year in this world
he spoke your name,
leaving all other words to wait
until it was time.

So young and tender and
fresh from heaven with memories
and knowledge we cannot imagine.

Soon he won’t recall
his first steps on soft carpet,
walking toward a photograph
framed in silver.

A picture of mostly strangers to him,
except for you.
He took his little finger deposited sticky on one face
and spoke again, his great-grandfather’s name.