Stepping Stones (Poetry Monthly)
Wed, 07 Oct 2015
Caught up in a whirlwind
of brand new duvets and curtains,
mugs, plates and bowls, electric kettles,
Doing the rounds at IKAE...
getting dizzy just negotiating
the way out.
So much so, I’d not considered
what it would be like – the leaving.
It didn’t seem five minutes ago,
I’d been buying bibs, nappies,
highchairs and stair-gates.
Staying up until the small hours...waiting
for that key to turn in the lock.
The rain was coming down in stair-rods,
as they drove off that morning, in a clapped-out
Morris Minor. The car, packed to the gills
with duffle-bags and hold-alls – my daughter
and her best mate.
She waved at me, through the leaves
of a potted, avocado, lovingly grown from seed,
cradled between her knees...couldn’t leave it
blew me a kiss,
cupped in her hand, so fragile
so white, as they hit the open road.
Me...leaning on the five-bar gate,
dreading the homeward strait...and never
had our garden path seemed that long or that steep,
nor had I felt so lost and alone.
Or loved that infant, child to woman – grown
learned to stand, walk, run, on these same stones...
more wholly, more completely, nor
had she ever been so very much