Four Years Old (poem)

for Alison


A doctor’s visit can be healing,
But not as instantaneously as mummy’s magic fairy dust.
The beating of a butterfly’s wings entertains you for hours.

You don’t need any help, and yet you need me,
Your head slots so perfectly into the hollow beneath my ribcage.
Your soft hands always so busy, so dirty
Creative delicious mud pies or digging for buried treasure.

Your lips purse together into invisibility when you’re looking for something,
Hands behind your back, swaying to and fro, grabbing at my heartstrings.

Every night, you sit, pen in hand, practicing your letters,
You tell me that you want to learn. Well, you are also my teacher,
As I am yours.

You teach me that time is sand slipping through my fingers,
You teach me that what I am is all you want, that perfection in your eyes, is me.
You teach me that sometimes you need to make time to pick dandelions out of the grass.

We both know that you will never be four years old again,
And that one day you will tower over me with a mischievous smile,
But still I will hold you and rock you like a baby,
My daughter, my Alison, my world and my life.


The Elusive Word – Poem


Words? words? Where are you? I can see
Your shadows lurking behind that great big wall in front of me,
Whispering and giggling like schoolgirls in the yard,
Can’t we just be friends? Must life be so hard?

Words, oh words? Come out, come out to play,
I’ve only a short time frame, I’ve not got all friggin’ day,
So let us all cooperate and jot down a line or two,
Why can’t you be as kind to me as I have been to you?

WORDS? Come on now, I won’t chide you again,
You better come quick smart when this paper meets my pen,
You were so excited when my bum cheeks hit the loo,
And now there’s only silence – WHERE the **** are you?

Fine, then. Be like that. No, really – I don’t care!
Stay away forever! Only come back if you dare!
It’s not as if I hope to depend on you for a living,
And that when you come skulking back, I’ll always be forgiving.

Words, I know you’re in there, but please, do not leave;
Perhaps a good night’s sleep will grant me some reprieve?
I know we fight and argue, we don’t always agree,
But we work so well together, don’t you think, you and me?

Words, just come back – I want us to be friends,
We can talk it over, I want to make amends.
Please don’t make me write a shitty poem just for the sake of writing,
Otherwise people will likely guess that we’ve been fighting.

Oh crap. Oh well, tomorrow’s another day,
Let’s hope by then my dear old muse can think of things to say.