When the morning’s saw tears through the last ragged dream bands
I bury my nose under his chin, cup his head in my hands
I relish his sweet scent and it’s power to soothe
Grieve the closeness we’ll miss with the shedding of youth.
Stars still hang on his ceiling, suns and moons on his wall
A bite-size universe, galaxies rolled tight, offered back as a beach ball
For him, I’ve conjured up wonderlands, shovelled snow in a sack
Enchanted forests, spider-webs and other miracles - he no longer needs me to hack.
I’m a cast-off stone he keeps in his pocket
And he’ll smooth the rough edges, grind the teeth on the old sprocket
I’ll watch him bounce on river-banks, pray his shoulders won’t burn
Though my own childhood pools gawp empty and the swimmers are gone.
