! ! To A New-Born Poem

The midwife’s tidying up with professional detachment and there you are; wrinkled; pink with a glow that no man ever made; and I, a part of you for ever, yet knowing, now, you’re you… one day in a little time I’ll take you for your first High Street outing in the pram or baby buggy; trying to pretend you’re someone else’s… not one I’d fight my life for.. pausing to allow some friendly soul to glance permission to have a peep; smile; glow; say a few kind words; then after that first stranger’s looked at you, I’ll look at you myself; to see if you look different, or look differently at me now someone else has met you. Sometimes, you are more beautiful, more full of life, more independent and more you; as if your path through life had taken its first step away from me; and yet along with pride, there’s quiet, sweet relief: you’ll make it on your own. But still, I touch your pillow, smooth your cover, look at you for some reassurance that we both know where poetry may go; and you – you laugh, and kick the world away.