DownstreamA smile.
A bud of fluffy drool
on the lip-tip.
Tongue a pink rosebud.
Eye a sky full of fireworks.
A slow step. Falter.
A chubby foot, a bit like a sixties sedan,
up in the air.
Fat rounding up and falling
around the waist
in slow motion.
My index fingers out –
hands come and grip them.
A pause.
Then, the sparkling, saline, amber shower
hits my face.
My son has made a mark.
6 comments:
What a wonderful way to remember the growing up of your little one.. while all the fathers remember too, I wonder how many of them feel so poetic about it...
shower power! good stuff shanks ;)
Came here from Shoonyata's blog, and really liked this page.
You write beautifully..
Thanks Prats. Will keep at it... keep visiting.
k, thanks for the compliment!
most touching... love the lilt in it :)
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