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Runcible Spoon

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                          World Book Day

 

She knows exactly who she’s going to be,

off on adventures through a winter wardrobe,

hoping for tea with a faun, and lion flight,

through turning springtime skies.

 

I dress her in a green beret and mock gabardine,

velcro on a label, hand the small bag she carries,

with dolls house secrets to make her point clear;

only I really know what it is meant to be.

 

I kiss her goodbye and imagine what it was like,

to put your child on a train, waving a white handkerchief

with the spirit of experience; inside, only weeping,

and praying for her to come home,   be safe.