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.


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


in the warmth

in the aura of love.


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.

old friends 

It’s been a score of years
yet more
since we met.
First netball court foes
then school class allies
heartaches and discos
slack through the Uni years
reunited through
wedding weekends away.
And now
babies’ later
I see you afresh
sitting on tiny chair
conversing with my son
as the centre of his
three year old world.
He’s beaming
and so is my heart.

Inspired by EW chatting with my son