Missing Tooth Monday

I found a photograph in a dusty drawer today

With a gap-toothed smile

that chased the dark away

School morning chaos and spilled apple juice

Your favorite yellow coat,

worn and loose

Now it's quiet

downstairs

I blinked and you grew up,

just like that

From scraped-up knees and a backward baseball hat

To an empty room where the afternoon

light falls flat

I blinked

and you grew up

Seven candles

on a lopsided cake

And that summer at the lake

we couldn't wait to make

You fell off your bike,

crying on my shoulder

I held you close,

wishing you wouldn't get older

But the years had other plans

I blinked and you grew up,

just like that

From scraped-up knees and a backward baseball hat

To an empty room where the afternoon

light falls flat

I blinked

and you grew up

Now your suitcase is packed by the front door

No more scattered toys on the living room floor

Just a frame in my hand

of a girl nine years old

With a gap in her smile

and a hand I used to hold (ohhh)

I blink and you're gone

But the smile

carries on