We built our castle, you and I,
With vast ceilings
And colourful frescos up high,
Undercover,
With thick bricks of feathery downs,
Where warm breaths are radiators
That engulf us,
And you whisper in my ear,
"I love you the best".

We built our hideaway you and I,
Out of fleecy quilts wrapped over wooden boxes
With chairs for doors
And clothes maidens for supporting walls
A den for watching the world go by.

We built nests for nestling
And tents for testing
With stacks of books and a torch
For casting shadows of Giganotosaurs
And jaws
Projected onto the cupboard doors,
"Stop, stop!" you shout. 
And we do.

We waged wars, you and I
Against witches and shadows
And Makawak dragons,
Against forkfuls of peas and carrot thieves and suspicious looking sauces.
"I don't really love that" you say,
As if I even stand a chance.

We built our ship you and I,
Upon the sea bed
"Pirates of the hoy!" You shriek
As the cannons boom.
And climb the rigging high,
To spy a stowaway sister
On the starboard bow,
Cheerfully dismantling the hull.
"This means war", you cry.
And mean it.

Oh yes, we built worlds upon worlds, upon worlds,
Out of colour and shape and smell and sound and taste...
Co-conspirators in epic tales
Invisible to all. But you. And I.
Make believe.
Play pretend,
We can fan the flame so it does not end.

So when you grow and these bedroom forts cannot hold your long limbs anymore,
And the world bangs relentlessly upon your door,
When I am old and foolish and useless,
And a mummy cuddle can no longer cure all.

I hope you will remember.

I wasn't ready.
I wasn't ready when you came.

We clattered over sleeping policemen in the dark,
Shocking jolts spaced 3 minutes a part
That led us to the bright strip lights of a city that never sleeps.

They were not ready when I came,
But tutted, showed me the bed and shut the door.
My brain in my back, my hips,
The wiring no longer routed to my lips,
I dumbly rocked.  
Breathe in, breathe out.

As if to master the storm.

With one hand stretched down
To your heavy descent,
An engulfing wave broke about me
"Why did you buzz?" An irritated tone.

"Clean yourself up"

Desperately I held on,
With hands and knees on the cool bathroom floor,
Not here, not here.
Suddenly running, half naked, down the corridor,
An animal seeking safety.

Away from the fluorescence, floating by lamplight.
Time lost its meaning.
Suspended in a never- ending moment
But in the darkness I could bare it.

You shot out like a cork
Which had been held by the cradle
In a vessel shaken for too long.
Uncontrolled, terrifying.

She swore when she saw the head.
"You didn't make a sound" she said.
Twisting and swimming into your father's arms,
You were a fish in water,
And laid on my chest.

But I was not ready.

I am not a tiger,
Roaming wild and free
I am not a platitude, a tagline:
#bodypositive.

For this body has been 'lived-in',
S t r e t c h e d.
Distressed like an antique,
Tagged, tired, faded.
Ready for an upcycle
Cracked like an egg, that sat on a wall
Irrevocable.

No, I am a human comforter,
A trampoline,
A favourite seat, worn-in, cushioned and hard fought over.
I am a warm drink and a familiar smell wrapped in a creased paper bag,
A heavy woollen blanket to be wrapped up in,
Thick and snug on a crisp day.

I am a tree for climbing skyward, solid and steady,
Branches for balancing,
Roots in the dirt,
Boughs that hang heavy and low each night.

I am the rain that washes clean,
The soothing breeze on a knocked knee
I am the moon to pull you close
On the tides that rock.
I am warmth eternal and the deep roaring thunder,
I am the milk that flows and the heart that beats.

I am elemental.

No, I am not a Tiger, for I am as powerful and as vast as Mother and earth and all the depths of the seas.

Somewhere in this stillness, I long for "me".

At first a halo
Cherub-like to twist and turn,
A mass of fine spun golden threads
A crown, 
Lovingly passed down.

Bigger now, you keep your mane,
My little lion man,  a little defiant man -
He loves me, he loves me knot,
Swept up on top, or blown out in the breeze
A task to tease out in the bath.

I find you knotted up like tree roots
And wrapped around like twine
A knitted scarf,
As dry as November's leaves
And high as the spring tide
Wet down to your waist
And 
Stretched 
out.

Stubborn Samson,
This fleece drinks water like a shipwrecked sailor,
Meanwhile you are
Slippery as a jumping fish, out of my grip and 
Diving 
down 
into the frothy seas beneath.
A tub of plastic in primary colours,
And foamy letters for spelling on walls
You are happy as a clam, 
"In a minute, in a minute" you proclaim.
And then squirm, wriggle and strain...

Untangling this mesh is a slow act of love I perform
over,
and over
and over 
again.

A king, A queen, a floor,
Our carousel through the night.
A roulette wheel
With a soft landing
Dinosaurs, forest creatures, patterns on patterns.
Cotton linens, feathered downs, in swirls of fabric to take a rest
No one wakes alone.
Warm embraces send us back to our dreams.

We sleepwalk through these soft corridors Stumbling in and out of bedroom doors,
Musical furniture 
To silent rhythms
A dance in the night
We have practiced 1000 times.
A quickstep, A shuffle, A lift to the sky.
Visions come and go, weave around us and in between us
I am the dream catcher and you are a hot water bottle, A baby, A bear, A wakeful sprite...

A leg for a tent peg, an arm for a bolster, A chest for a pillow, a body - a blanket
Deep heavy slumber hovers over us like a thick white fog
Dense and intoxicating

By morning we lie, dead to the world, a warm tangle of hearts, soft skin and deep sighs, pushing away the sleep from our eyes.  Sweet slumbered creases on our faces, safe as we'll ever be. Back to the start, from where all beginnings sprang.  The family bed.

Small, white, smooth,
Taken with a glass of water each day at 7.45 am
A routine, a habit, nothing to see here. 
A simple pill to keep me still here, I am a frozen lake, cold, steady, calm.
Chemicals to slow down the thoughts that might shatter and ping.
Dissolve them into light bubbles that barely pop, undetected.
Cortexes wrapped in a weighted blanket are lovingly protected.

I begin to bite these bitter pills in half each day, 
No change.
No change.
Nothing to see.

Until all at once I am greeted by a familiar giggle, a teardrop, a vivid sky.
Feelings that plunge within and then burn 20 stories high.
4 years pour out, in a matter of days
Ideas spark electric
And do not fade.

She holds me warmly in her arms,
"I have missed you" she whispers.
And I am stunned.

How did I miss someone I had forgotten?
And how did I forget?

I am the greatest love of my life.

Your secret language is peppered with pat-a-cake and finger wagging,
You are urgent, emphatic,
Indecipherable.
Hand upon hip,
Shrugging shoulders.
A foreign exchange student
With no translator…
I catch a word here, a word there, a sentence? Counting?
Oh my! Is she counting?

"Mama, mama" is poetry to my ears, who knows the masterpieces you are writing as I nod stupidly?
"What do you want?" I ask.
You are indignant, 
Baffled by my ignorance,
You gesticulate wildly in the direction of the window, the door, the ceiling, the floor…

What's that?  A song? A dance? A sleeping bunny? A twinkling star? 

I am bewildered, captivated by your wide-eyed wonder, a constant babbling flow of new shapes and sounds rolling around your mouth, you taste each syllable with your tongue, your gummy teeth and dribble.
You offer up delicious verses from your rosy cheeks mixed with sloppy kisses.

Sweet gifts to savour and recall in years to come.  They will not last forever. 

Our sofa is a loaf of bread,
Held together with jam
Sticky side up, sticky side down
Right way up, upside down
Delicious treats smashed into brightly coloured fabrics
Served up on a tired, crumpled bed,
A blanket of breadcrumbs
A carpet of crisps,
Our rug is a picnic,
Our home a buffet
Full of secret, hairy snacks you devour just in time
"What's in your mouth?!" I cry and then sigh.
Its too late to mind,
For this delighted forager,
Last night's dinner,
Is today's appetizer
Crouching under the unswept table,
Bear Grylls of Bebington,
Angel delighted,
Pleased as Punch and Judy.

I dream of dismantling this gingerbread house someday,
I dream of sparkling appliances and clean, modern lines.

Minimalist.

But oh, Hansel and Gretel, I love your sticky mouths and chocolate fingers. 
 
Clean lines can wait.