Tuesday, 23 April 2013
I took you to the park, Friday past.
See-saw, slide and pitch of grass - giant saucer, roundabout,
and swings - on which to fly.
And you fear not the slide - shiny metal, dizzy heights,
little sturdy legs to climb,
beyond my reach - and high.
Wide eyed, hold tight, grass and woodchip left behind,
swing up high and reach out wide,
heady rush and leave this world behind.
Then tears, come home-time.
What warrior child wants solid ground?
Wind and flight and speed of sound,
swing me high and spin me back around.
A spark, I catch, in your eye.
My girl - fearless under bright blue sky... x