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 . . .