I collect pebbles on the beach and form a heart
to honour you.
I don’t know who we would be in years to come,
but there are some things I’m sure of:
we’d read stories together, not just before bed
but at any time we chose. We’d get muddy in the woods
and hunt treasure; leaves, conkers, and all the other
magical things the world saves for little people.
Your artwork would adorn every surface.

I walk through the park and smile in the rain,
picturing your wellies plunge
into small pools of sky. I
Sometimes, when I’m sad I remember you’re soaring
and everyone down here is only temporary.
Grief bloats my tummy in place of your growth,
and I’m homesick for a life I never had.  

You would have been so loved, if I’d known you were there.