Small Truths

Her small hand, warm in mine,

after the school play's dimming light.

She leaned in close, a whispered sign,

and turned my world just a little less bright.

"I saw Dad," she breathed, a tiny breeze,

"put the money, under my pillow, late."

Her eyes, not sad, just full of ease,

as if she'd just unlocked a gate.

No tears, no grand dramatic scene,

just that knowing, quiet shift.

The Tooth Fairy, a sweet, old queen,

just someone's careful, loving gift.

And in that moment, something broke,

a fragile, shining glass.

All the little stories spoke,

and letting go, they passed.