Snow guns

On the nights you cried
I walked you out and we talked to the moon
who didn't say much, but he was always there

smiling at you

huddling you closer, wrapping the blanket warmer
round you, you slept soundly then.
But the blanket was ripped away too soon,
the moon all gone
for the walks were given to another.

Whipped from underneath you,
all around
your tiny hands reached out
this way and that,
occasionally clasping threadbare cloth.

Yes, you lost [out on] a lot
but I've gained more.

Dry those tired eyes awake
for there's a chink of light shining through.
So for you
and tomorrow
I promise I'll take you sledging
(your sisters too)
and we can
slip-trip
slide-glide
skim-skate
never-too-late

to get that blanket out again.
The snow guns you'll make will melt one day.

(For Will- for being brave, my strength, my little man.)