Wednesday, 3 August 2016

Poppy I

Dressed in an egg-white vest

And a tiny pair of speckled leggings,

She was dressed as had become

Customary.  Still sprawling, underdone.


The skylight seared, acid blue

With bloated balloons, no breeze;

So tired.  Last night's support, so

Teary, bleary, blurry-eyed.


She resumed.  Presumably

Displeased; we'd never know why.

I leant over, cracked, reached, grasped

Drew her to me, tried to soothe.


Through splintered lips and gravel

Throat but, holding her at arms

Reach, felt a new steel, which

Shook me, I paused, sat down.


Within the usual jelly,

Was a strength, new today, that

Told of future days biking,

And cheering from the touchline.


Of carrying on my shoulders,

Of running down too-steep hills,

With shouts of 'careful' ignored',

Of first days at school, of life.


I held her close, enveloped this

Burgeoning being, protected this

Brittle crysalis, cleansed by the clarity

Of what the years would say.