Toddlers trickle in like merry sunbeams,
Admitting me into their oyster worlds;
A new set of tiny hands claps each year,
I’ve learnt to detach, they’re not mine to keep.

I spy baggage and scars left by harsh words;
That I can lighten with a bear-like hug,
Parents watch them grow, but I help them moult. 

Some days I’m so sapped, I struggle to smile,
There are times I yearn to be with adults,
But they don’t forgive and never forget.

So I chase my world of silly rhymes; of
Impromptu dances and caterpillars,
Of so many childhoods rolled into one;
I see little more of God around me.





 

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