Buttons

dirty ankles
skirt edges flapping
adding mud
on muddied legs

sloshing on water filled puddles
hurrying home
to prepare supper
but her thoughts were elsewhere
binding wounds
on bleeding hearts

one of them hers
the others, her children's

he didn't have to leave
he didn't have to dive
he could've hung on
until her strength
lifted him up

but he didn't
and wounded their souls
with his freedom