Each day like the last

Each day like the last

Almost, almost
like the last.

She fashions little paper boats
frets over them
just so.

With glittering eye
he sets them adrift upon the placid water
closes the lid and starts the machine.

First day of school
they toddle into traffic
acquire a taste for coffee
and show up for family congregations
in the third person.

I must hurt you a little to let you be free
knows the love that holds us thrall.

Fingers work the granite face of time
searching for a forgotten fold
leading to the core
of dearest treasure.