Not the first time I met her
Framed in a doorway, smiling,
New to me – yet familiar.
Not even in the grand gestures of friends
Defined by drink, bravado and fear.
Not the smiles which
Surrounded me before I knew how –
To smile, to laugh, to communicate.
The magic I incline towards
As only parents know
Is that lull
Between the resistance and the sleep,
That moment when the
Thrashing ceases, the
Mumbling sporadic, ebbs
And flows;
“Dada” “Mama”
Continues
But you have had a
Half dream
Awakened by a snort
To realise she’s nearly there:
She’s nearly, and finally,
Dropped off!