I let you go into the world,
launched with a kiss from my body's lips;
the cord was cut by alien hands,
and you were part of me no longer,
yet forever part of me.

I let you go in little ways,
to my parents, to the crèche,
to Sunday School, the nursery,
each painful - but not like today,
as I let you go once more,
straw-hatted, red-blazered,
a 5-year-old parody of an air hostess,
tripping across the tarmac square,
soaring up the schoolroom steps,
to that place where others will teach you
things that I have never known,
where others will feed and comfort you,
soak up your sobs when you hurt yourself.

I let you go: life starts again,
as now your day is filled by others
so mine is free to find and form
the part of me that is not you -
yet guilt subdues my liberty.

I let you go, but kid myself;
my chest is gripped by an iron hand,
my concentration disappears,
I snap and swear at stupid drivers,
cry at my partner on the phone,
blame my hormones, think of you -

and then you return, slightly rumpled;
the picture you hold goes on the fridge,
then, later, in the treasure-box,
for the day I let you go again,
this time for good, to another's care,
and still you will be and will be no longer
forever
part of me.

Wild Bill Balding

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sophie-goes-to-school/