December 08

A new life

A pink straw hat
too long hung
behind the bedroom door
contemplates a new life.

Its owner lying
on the bed, ungainly
as a hippo, writhes...
checking times before
the next wave arrives.

Forgotten now, it seems,
months of commands
exhortations, demands
delivered by a draconian
midwife - who tells tales
of new mothers fussing
You'd think they
were being murdered
she complains.

Strange:
that this third party
is here...yet...
not come through
the bedroom door.

Odd:
how the midwife
soon to to re-wed a long
discarded husband
reaches
for the pink straw hat.

“Beauty is my child’s face.”*

Is there a more perfect sight than the face of a beloved child? Is there a more perfect feeling than stroking the softness of their skin? Is there a more perfect smell than inhaling their sweet scent as you envelope them in a tight embrace? These are some of the intoxicating wonders of motherhood. How I love to dwell on my child’s exquisite features, but no matter how long or how intently I gaze, the image is always changing. It is the nature of childhood.

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