Remember when, in those days when you were sad... I held you even if you didn't want to, and you ended up crying in my arms, beating your feet on the ground and your hands against my back. You hated being touched Zoe, I know, but you knew well that I couldn't leave you alone in your sad thoughts, lolling around the house barefoot. Then when you got caught up in the hysteria of the moment, caused by stress and anger, because maybe you weren't able to communicate something that day, we took dad's car, the guitar, and moved a few miles from home. You guided me, always in the same place, in a small clearing, where you wanted to be barefoot. I preferred to keep the shoes on, but the important thing was that you felt free from stimuli. And while I plucked the strings of my guitar, you kept your hands resting on it and looked around, with still shining eyes, but a smile on your lips.
© PityPoem