She whispers to me in her bed,
in the half-light.
She says ‘there’s a little car at Grandmas, I’ll show you,
I’ll get it out of the shed.’
She is serious, her face set,
her little eyes shining.
I can’t remember why she started talking about the little car,
or what it has to do with the baby book that we were reading,
But it doesn’t matter.
She is precious,
And all of her thought trails
And each of her breaths.
A later version of this made it into my book, ‘There You Are’, a book of 34 poems about motherhood. You can find it in my Etsy shop here.
elisabeth pike 