He runs and never looks behind him.
He jumps and never worries into what.
He smiles and never asks why.
There is always time for a hug.
There is always a reason to laugh.
There is always a place to play.
Eight will come, and then nine, then more.
He’ll grow taller, and older, and smarter, and focused.
He’ll find new life in his own.
I’ll miss this time.