Francie Lynch


Aine's Toes - Poem by Francie Lynch

Aine sits in a big chair,
Her legs stretched and bare;
I'm counting ten wee toes for her,
Toes I love so dear.

They'll lead her from the crib to stairs,
And take her from our care;
Those ten wee toes of hers
Will take her everywhere.

They'll get dirty in the garden
While laughing in the rain;
They'll be her fins
When she swims,
And wiggle
When she sings.

She'll slip them into runners
For a race that lasts life-long;
They'll tap out eighths and quarters
When she sings her songs.

Toes will get cold on the rink
When she plays our game;
I'll rub those toes relentlessly
To warm the ice-cold sting.

They'll occupy heels and pumps
When she plays her game;
But for me those widdle toes of hers
Will always be the same.

Topic(s) of this poem: baby, chair, children, coldness, family, garden, granddaughter, grandfather, growing up


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Poem Edited: Thursday, June 22, 2017


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