Tonight my three-year-old ran home from the lake
Over city streets known to me but new to him.
How he made it home I’ll never know;
The body finds a way.
He surprised me in the kitchen,
Looking almost casual, almost proud,
Torso naked, dark-blue shorts halfway down his legs.
When he reached his mama in the hallway,
He fell to the floor sobbing
And stayed there a good long while,
Safe at home, but broken from the journey.
My Track Record 
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