Evolution

Remember the Rocking Horse, that first

pony, a black filly, a white mane, saddled

to ride us everywhere and nowhere, hours

of rocking, hours of stories created and told,

toddler skills of balance, healthy and soothing,

this reassurance of motion, the rhythms of life

engrained early, riding over the hills and down

into the valleys of our imaginations;

evolved into an old wooden rocking chair,

the music of two rockers rocking the floor,

back and forth and back again, the creak

of the floor below us, a music, setting free

the happiness hormones, rocking us slowly

to sleep, a sleep-inducing motion, at peace,

back and forth, me and you nestled into my arms;

evolved today into a well-worn chair, when

you got too big to rock in my lap, but it’s

rocking still, flooding me with memories

of you and the sleepless nights we rocked here,

the tears you shed, and the stories we told,

the silly conversations between us, secrets,

the memories all I have to keep me going

on the sleepless nights of my own, now, back

and forth, and back again, carried back to a black

rocking horse, long outgrown, the music

of two rockers rocking, a song still singing,

loud and sweet, still rocking me, singing me to sleep

in the long cold days of aging, remembering you.