Rowen, my first child:
her first glimpse of me / her mum's
first hint of glory.
Jessie and Rowen:
two stars I steer by. Each day,
the sun and the moon.
Winter of '80:
children see diamonds in snow...
The heart's lens freezes them.
Julian pee-pees
as soon as he's been born - its
huge arch, triumphant.
Twin boys who are dead
on arrival. Empty pram,
and not even names.
Jules, like Paddington
Bear in duffle-coat and red
wellies on the sledge.
Shift to Pembrokeshire:
Jess and her bro rifle
wet bogs. Watch out, toads!
Rowen, the eldest,
keeps to herself in her room,
drawing Tutankhamen.
These, my final babes -
twins, sharing one crib - sucking
each other's wee noses.
© Jacqui Thewless, June 2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a precious collection of haiku's! Nicely done!