Her hands and the heart of a tree

A tree with her hand prints and lines that always stayed with me from ‘ The heart of  the tree’….


For song and mother-croon of bird

In hushed and happy twilight heard

The treble of heaven’s harmony

These things he plants who plants a tree

– Henry Bunner




Feet that journey

on a path with pieces

of herself strewn all over .

Whose are they ?

Lips that part to promise,

“forever and nothing less”,

when every tomorrow

is uncertain .

Who could be so foolish ?

The wind laughs ,

the sky teases ,

Love celebrates

another casualty .



Life lessons

Stains on her clothes

Scribbles on the floor

Bruises on her knees

She’s learning .

Bananas over apples

Shoes , not sandals

Peppa over Pinocchio

She’s voicing .

Welcoming snuggles

Tearful bye byes

That angry “ excuse me”

She’s expressing .

“Nothing happened”

“No problem”

Not to worry

Self talk when she’s scared

She’s self soothing .

Learning , voicing ,

Expressing , becoming ,

growing , teaching .



Another world

I like your world

where duvets are caves

and sparrows talk

and it’s masti ( fun ) time

always , around the clock .

I like your world

where the bed is battleground

where pillow fights always end

with happy losers

and giggling sounds .

I like your world

Of magic , of wonder and of awe

your abracadabra tricks

which bring to life

all that you draw .

I like your world

Of songs on loop

Of stories without an end

Of questions you don’t give up on

Of imaginary friends .

I like your world

It makes me smile

I want you to know

Your little world of wonder

Makes me a child once more .









Decades later she was telling them a story and each time she took his name , she held back a tear . She hoped he remembered her.

Decades later he was sharing a story and he smiled each time he took her name . He hoped the silly girl had never really been serious and forgotten all about him .