given

i forgot how to paint the sky, 
how it all goes away, 
one breath at a time. 
i was holding her little hand, 
bone tired, on the path, 
she was babbling
and i was thinking about 
where my phone was.
wishing i could find
reprieve. her eyes 
search me, “daddy?” 
she wants to show me the world.
i want to give it to her. 
but i can scarcely give her 
a second of my whole mind.
i search the trees 
lighted in a budding sunset, 
weighted with evening light,
i grab her hand tighter 
and breathe. 
the texture of the clouds 
looks too intentional 
for me to miss. 
i sigh. 
my God. 
how had i forgotten this?