At the Beach With Phillip

You were only four that day, at least in years.
But then how much, I wonder, do we count
The years in days and months
When thoughts and needs are so much
Closer to the truth of what we are.

I held your hand that day
Or you held mine.
We felt the amber silence
In the evening breeze.
I knew you felt it too.
But then you turned
And trudged off, up the beach
For water.

I watched you go, and I stood there
Letting go of more that day
Than just your hand,
When you were only four.