Saturday, 13 April 2013
You played outdoors today - properly now no longer a babe.
More of a girl every day.
And our garden is small - pebble, pots and thick stone walls.
But sheltered and - in cool spring sun - warm enough.
And we went a walk - woods and daffs and past a wall,
ornate garden kept no more, trees and path and fields beyond.
And bluebells - not yet grown.
And you walked - small hand in mine, found your feet on muddy ground,
carried home once worn out.
And I told our boy - you'll play here in years to come,
tracks and fields and easy to be lost.
But a minute from the door.
Whilst you drew breath and looked across, green and blue and sea beyond.
Rolling hills and - in the very distance - island mountain tops.
And how on earth could I forget - when cold and dim and dark and wet,
That we struck gold the day we found this place.
Straight from books and fairy tales, wood and field and wild fresh air.
Children's footprints left without a care... x