daughter
you cannot die
you cannot grow old.
I would defy, yet there is grey
above your temples.
but you cannot die
for how could that be?
you were born of me
so
how can you ever die
if I say “no!”
and that is why
when the wave came and knocked you down
I smacked you hard
and made you cry
for I
was fiercer than any wave
could ever be.
Elaine Booth
Mon 22nd Nov 2010 21:43
Lovely, Ann - poem and photo. I really feel here that shock one feels as a parent sometimes: the shock of the wave that could have drowned, the fear that sometimes leads us to smack or shout and then also the shock of seeing your child grow old too. And the fear that never goes away - "make sure I die first". No, smacking never worked for me - all he did was smack me back!! Well, he was quite young. I'm afraid my raised voice is enough...! x