Skin

I tried to hold on to the moment
before wrinkles developed on fingers,
wrists, toes. No one told me before
you were born, I was completely unaware
the lines would be missing.
The smooth skin barren
of the marks age, time, life will map
on your small body, but I missed it. One day
they were there, marring each joint.
In the blackout, lasting for days, I allowed myself
in the dark, sitting by your side, to run my fingers
over those tiny places and imagined
the wrinkles had vanished.