Theo's Hands

(By Gub, the 11th of February, 2013, London)

At six he clasps
The future
Ten fingers
Figuring facts,
Fictions,
Falsehoods.

He folds the world
In a palm that
Is warmed by strength
And the condensing
Vapour
Of youth.

There is comfort there
In his small hands
The fusion of ourselves
Through genes
And this newer
Being -  himself,
Charmed.

His childhood
Fuses memories
Of
Molten
Gold
And Ingots cast

In flesh, will
Small fingers also one day hold,
Feathered in his own
Manly down.