My children come back
to me with glossy eyes and
the smell of strange homes
hanging in their clothes and hair,
they have met people
unknown to me,
they have been yelled at
without me to defend them,
they have smiled to people
I would never have looked at twice.
Now, they carry memories
severed from my life,
they have given parts of their hearts to
other persons,
who do not deserve it
and will toss them out,
not thinking
how much it hurts me,
thinking about it.
I kiss them and
hang their clothes out in cool night breeze
to catch the familiar smell of home.
Tomorrow, I will, tell them to wash their hair.