To Jean from Julian
Not only a woman of beauty, loved and loving, but a spirit of immeasurable depth
A mother to me
Being 8 is really great.
Perhaps I can stay up late?
Will all my presents come in a crate?
And can the postman get through the gate?
Do not take anything for granted,
Earn all that you get and deserve.
Seeds will grow only when planted,
Your labour you must not reserve.
If I could take my childhood by the hand
And wander through the years,
And yet, what fears if I recount the tales
I am not a poet,
and I know it.