Eleanor
I had the pram now -
Eleanor and I were two days old.
Knackered and dazed,
I watched her taking shape.
The pram rocked and pulled on my hand,
The buckled back wheel looked around.
The old metal chassis
Surreptitiously creaked its coded morse
To sleepless neurons
And I followed.
Woolworths…
Into the emporium of
Bright plastic sweets,
Emergency mending kits
And Disney.
The girl yawned,
Plumped up the cds
And put on the Pretenders.
“I’ll stand by you, I’ll stand by you,
Won’t let anyone hurt you,
I’ll stand by you.”
She’d done it.
Be it ever so trite
And just that little bit sentimental,
My guard was down.
It was the final piece,
That rare neat click
When everything fits,
When all the orange roadwork lights
They flash together.
We floated up the centre aisle
Past shoe polish, bias binding and string,
Oblivious to the world
But right at the hub of the clockwork of the universe.
We left.
She yawned and put on something else.