Is That You . . ?
The scuffing of slippered feet
stoop shouldered baby steps
can’t climb the stairs
can’t get to the potty
button my buttons, please
I need a nap
come read to me . . .
hair needs washing
winter’s coming
wrap me in a blanket, dear
tuck me in and shut the door
but, God, don’t leave me here
I know your face, seems close somehow
but that memory’s not too clear
nice to see you, dear
do I know you, dear?
you’ve such lovely green eyes –
like mine . . .
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