Pembroke Castle

We stood in the rain that day, belting down,
wind gusting, buffeting us close.
Two sisters, our bellies full,
and half full with child:
gortex coats stretching, but not closing,
hoods drawn down, peaks dripping.
Mum, inappropriately dressed, as usual,
in fluffy white jacket with sparkles,
wool hat, no waterproof, no wellies.
Pop, flat cap topped, three-fleeced-zipped-in,
wrapped for the mountains again.

We stood in the rain that day,
huddled together:
not just for the photograph,
but for the fun of it, the warmth of it,
the great big silly grin of it,
high on the ramparts in a force six gale.

 

Memories of a family day out, recalled from a photograph.

basking

Where else would you be
except here.
A king size made for three
sometimes four
when the night terrors wake.
Open all hours
for comfort and nurture.
You lie central
arms outstretched
Queen of the new world
basking
in the warmth
in the aura of love.

sleep

I’m Brigette Jones again
staring at my loved one
while they sleep:
my daughter, still fresh
into this world. 

A little caress,
a gentle stroke
on her blooming cheek
won’t harm
won’t wake.
Risky though. 

I might disturb
the innocent calm.
Can’t resist
the softness
of her tender skin.
The need
to be connected.
Inspired by: resting baby