When She Let Me Go

She didn’t hold on tighter when the winds of change came.
She opened her hands—
soft, sure—
and let me walk forward
without fear of losing her.

The blossoms fell like soft goodbyes,
but none of them meant end.

She let me go
not because she stopped loving me,
but because she trusted
I would bloom in the place
where I’d planted my own roots.

And when I looked back…
she was still there—
smiling.