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.

full

When I see you skip
(as a pigtailed movie star)
along beside me;
Velcro shoes and grazed knees
up high,
I feel full.
Full of gratitude that your heart
is so light, so free
that your grey sock clad feet
cannot stay on the ground.
I feel full.
Full of contentment
that just for the moment;
that very moment
I might of
presented a world
where you shall not be grounded.

poem for seren books christmas card

I submitted to Seren books the verse below for their Christmas card competition – I didn’t win but…

Reunited

Here we are once more, our bodies remember
the bends and hollows of each other,
wrapped against the winter’s chill,
nestled.

Your confident heart
reverberates my slight frame.
My hesitant heart
quickens with your steadiness.
They beat their dance, a knowing tune
a rhythm of remembrance
young and light
once more.

submerged

And still the lion roars.
Not of two years
atop plastic slide
public baby pool bound
dictating his terms
to the undulating savannah.

But as a mighty four-year captain
of playground pirate ship
leading, encouraging, commanding
his invisible crew.

I envy him.

Fully submerged in adventure.
Not toe in, nor lapping rolled up trouser.
But deep into the silky blue.
So submerged, my half-hearted, self-conscious shark
brings a flash of real fright to his busy eyes.

I envy him.
So consumed by the moment
that reality is make-believe.

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.

espresso

I don’t understand
where the water goes, you said
as you interrogated
the waste pipe plumbing
to the sink at music class.
Your three year old stature
convenient for inspection.

A quizzical look on your face
a mirror of images
in the emotions book
we had read and practised
years before:
happy, sad, confused…
And my heart exploded
with an electric shock
of love
which coursed through me.

An espresso shot
to a decaf soya latte self.