10

10

 

Did you fill my head with dreams?

I always thought I'd given you mine,

because, once upon a long time ago

they had lain you softly in a basket

asleep, but not amongst bullrushes,

even if he seemed quick to leave

you in my care and sometimes I'm

quiet, think where he is and who:

a footballer, I once heard; if true

he planted his crosses in ground

where the goals will never grow,

did not put his life’s foot through

anything worth saving by a keeper's

palms, while I’m kneeling so close

to the one I came to love the most,

so near, my knees nearly crushed

asleep, but not amongst bullrushes,

for it’s only shapes that live within

gay watercolours in formless rain,

this tiny breathing wicker frame,

too young to feel endless thunder

of beating drums within my head,

just lying sleeping there instead,

oblivious to all those words once said,

that haunt me to this day; in panic

at this close call, I then lift and hold

you who are now ten years old

I think, and prayed to give only

the better half of what they had left,

to dream together worlds renewed,

at least that’s what I thought I said:

no angry words between us came,

in a decade since I spoke your name,

you must have smiled into my mind

gave back hope I thought was lost,

drawn out the nails from the cross:

and counting over our shared hours,

the dreams I have were always yours.