My Daughter Myself

Afraid of your own shadow...

escalators, lifts...flying,

having your hair washed –

water in your ears;

 

of thunderstorms, of dogs,

of bees, in case

they swarmed.

 

Then, as if overnight,

you changed.  Grew up;

left me standing.

 

We went riding together.

I was thrown; you took to it

like a duck to water.

 

Ice-skating, you

and your brother,

a regular Torvill and Dean

 

and there was I, hanging

onto the rail for grim death.

 

I would have baulked

at the very idea of travelling

by train halfway round the world

with the certain knowledge

I had only months to live; 

 

not only that, but with a man

who intended to divorce you

the minute you got home...

and well you knew it.

 

No...you always had more guts

than me, and that was the way

I’d engineered it. 

 

Not much

I did right in this life, but

bringing up my kids, I

didn’t go far wrong.

 

And then, of course,

you went and did the bravest thing there is...

and I can’t even begin to think

of topping that.