New kitchen knives
Are very sharp
They are good at
Cutting vegetables
And equally effective
On fingers
Take heed...

I lost an earring
A favourite for
It's a perfect match
To a mustard top

I searched to
No avail - but now
It's been found
On the doorstep

Sometimes things
That have been
Lost can then
Be found again

I think this
Can be applied
To people and
Souls too

Third step up
On the stairs

A favourite
Perch, for phone

Conversations
And cups of tea

I sit there now
As I sat there then

With the women
Of my genealogical line

There is a heritage
In my blood

Of sitting on stairs
Whilst sharing time

The road on the ridge at dusk
Is trailed with the lights of
Travellers towards home

Lights are lives in motion
Desires and commotion
Worries and dreams

Separate beings
All connected by the
Shared road on the ridge

I peek on the little human I made
When she's playing or sleeping
Mostly she doesn't notice
But sometimes she does and
The smile lights up the air around her

She has now taken to peaking on me
Although it takes the form of
Loudly stalking then jumping out -
I pretend to be scared and
Sometimes she catches me unawares

Little things are the big things
In parenthood.

You waved and stood
Watching as we left

I looked back and you
Stood a little longer

In moments like these
I think, maybe, you regret

For you feel the slice
Of the sacrifice you chose

You have been seen
Sitting at the bus stop
Your children occupied;
In her pram the other
Sandwich in hand

I've seen that you have
Given all to them at
Expense of yourself
Thin in tired clothes

I wonder - is that the
Expectation of motherhood
That all must be sacrificed
So none of who was remains

I've seen you - a sister in parenting
My heart aches for I see
Sorrow in your eyes
And hardship in your stare

I wonder again - when I
Am seen what do they think?