She bent down close to me
And gently brushed her chin
Upon my head so tenderly,
Kissing my newborn skin.
She bent down close to me,
I see her face approaching near,
A tear upon her weary eye,
I try to smile a newborn grin.
She bent down close to me,
I see the most delighted tear
Appear upon her weary face.
She bent down close to me,
Her face whitened by the effort,
And placed her tied lips upon
My cheek and then my head,
Gently cupping me in her hands.
‘My little boy,’ she said, and as she did
Her tiredness fled, ‘My little boy
I dreamt of this and now’re you’re here,
I daren’t believe it’s true,
Your little weight alone betrays it.
She bent down close
To me, I see
Her eyes fill up
With life at last,
And soft her lips
Kiss my head
And lift my heart,
‘My son, you’re here!’
Had fun at a workshop at Greenbelt on using rhyme in different ways in poetry. Here are some of my efforts circling around the same theme.
(31.08.26)
Ode for the Day 