John Tansey | + Follow Poet |
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For One Bright Bounding Ball

ONE BRIGHT BOUNDING BALL OF A YEAR 

 

 

 

Climbing piles of warm clothes,						 

freshly folded from the drier,						  

you pose, triumphantly smiling, 						 

beneath the soft glow of a lamp…						 

its dimmed halogen amber.						 

 

Toys, tumble from your hand 

in a jumble of color,  your face, 

red like the flames of your hair,						  

encircles the deep blue pools   

of your eyes,  transfixed upon 

 

A hanging chandelier, that  

lit and turning like the cosmos,						  

fills the scope of your eyes, 						 

scanning the perimeter of  it’s  

prismatic light. For nearly one						  

  

Bright bounding ball of a year,  

you have rolled, tumbled, stumbled  

and crawled into each newfound  

corner of our lives. Now, wrapped 

in a warm towel, your skin, soft						  

 

And pliable from talcum powder,  

I thumb the dough of your face,   

into a smile, cheeks rising like  

flour from a baker’s window. 

And now, pleasurably fatigued,  

 

from the throb and pang of your  

eyeteeth hammering through, I 

stay up later,  in the dark, rocking 

you to sleep, knowing we will 

never quite be this intimate again.

Copyright © John Tansey | Year Posted 2019

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