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To a Daughter Leaving Home by Linda Pastan

When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels.
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.

The whole idea of this poem, of growing up and moving on with life is rather sad. There is so much that seems so irrelevant when one is young, like a parent teaching their child to ride a bike, but that is later appreciated so much by both parent and child. Simply growing up is hard for many to deal with, the time can not be regained. It is sad to think of the mother, who as she lets her daughter ride her bike is already seeing her as grown up and leaving.