28th March
A moment to myself while they sleep upstairs. Conversations from outside float through the window, a plane drones in the sky. I sit still and listen to the brush of sandpaper on a window frame, the slam of a car door, the call of an unknown bird. It is these little things that I forget to listen for these days, above the delightful clamour of two small voices.
This is the kernel of a poem that made it into my book of hand lettered and illustrated motherhood poems. You can find it here: https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/561575584/there-you-are-by-elisabeth-pike-34-poems?ref=shop_home_active_12&pro=1&frs=1
elisabeth pike 