======================= © Copyright 2026 - Absalom ======================= You’re at the kindergarten gate with a bag that’s too big. Black hair, small glasses, wise little eyes. I bend to tie a shoelace, you say, “Dad, I already know.” I smile and something in me loosens. At night you fall asleep and I stand there in the doorway, counting breaths and whispering, grow slowly. Tie your laces don’t wait for me, Go where life is calling you to be. I’m counting the inches, I’m losing the race, To days I can’t replay, to your changing face. Don’t wait for me. Don’t wait for me. On the way to school, we walk along the curb, When one of us trips, we laugh. I hum our tune and you lift your hand: “Let’s run!” In the cold we face the sun. “Feel it?” you ask, I say, “Yeah… I feel it.” And I hold that moment longer than I should. Tie your laces don’t wait for me, Go where life is calling you to be. I’m counting the inches, I’m losing the race, To days I can’t replay, to your changing face. Don’t wait for me. Don’t wait for me. And suddenly you’re almost taller than me. Your door closes a little earlier, I ask, “How was your day?” You glance up: “All good.” You don’t even drop the bag, you just slip inside. I linger by the door for just a few more seconds, then I step back... Tie your laces don’t wait for me, Go where life is calling you to be. I’m counting the inches, I’m losing the race, To days I can’t replay, to your changing face. Don’t wait for me. Don’t wait for me.
