Today’s poem is inspired by Jane Cornwell’s drawing, which brought back memories of another baby from another birth. You can see the images and read the poems for Paul Brookes’ challenge here.
When you were
You don’t remember how you were
when she was too tiny to play
big-boy games, and you would be rough
and muddy from outside games,
breathless and red, with gentle hands,
and she would smile her baby smile,
front teeth already grey from falls
trying to follow you around.
You called her Ballisto
and played rockets with her
and rolling on the floor,
noise games with anything
that rang shrilled bleeped.
You were puppies from the same litter
and now both grown
she has started a litter of her own.
I wonder, will those rockets
and stars and silly noisy songs
fall from their orbit of memory
into your wondering smile?