Memory of the Future

at breakfast, by myself
    eggs & toast, pen & paper
I saw my daughter
    walk by on the street
(she was, I imagine, actually
    in a middle school classroom)

the woman crossing the street
    (going to work, or on
her way home after last night)
    is already grown;
my daughter, not yet. 

                                  But
    there she was, catching the
corner of my memory
    vaulting me forward in time
as if I'd skipped a decade ~

    and now, seeing her grown
I recall those middle school years
    so long ago.

                         and so I sit
pen & paper, eggs & toast, nostalgic
    for what has yet to come to pass