Your grand plans 
reflected in your irises but
your mind was never here
with me. 

You only knew how to
listen with your ears, so
when I spoke with
my eyes, I could scream and still
not be heard. 

Your hands were frantic–always
moving, always reaching, always
grabbing– for something in the future.
You zig-zagged across 
stepping stones. 

You wanted to crown everything
on your to-do list, and my name
was at the bottom. So
I will check myself off for you,
my dear, because
my name does not belong buried
at the base of your toy chest.