I wrote this a good few months ago, currently clawing my way out of a rut.
Take Care
An old watermill in large grounds, dark wood
Down into its workings. Drama of the crashing
Force of water, jarred by meandering middle-
Classes. A small boy, barely a walk-and-talker
Determined to make it unaided, each step
The height of his whole leg, clinging to
Floor with milk fingers. His father
Cautious, watches below.
Beside himself, the boy
Squeals
'Careful, Daddy, Careful! Don't fall.'
We're both headed for the water, as after all,
It's going somewhere. A look to each other
For solid reflections, to replace the murky silt.
'I've decided- I'm going to take care of you.'
Not urgent, or whim, a long mulled line.
You had me by the shoulders, grave,
With that frown. It was as sweet
And aching to me as the child,
Years before,
Crying
'Careful, Daddy! Don't fall.'
