The toy box hasn’t been opened,
Her highchair is aimless and sad,
The stair gates swing with no purpose,
I don’t have to hide my IPad!
No tiny steps on the kitchen floor,
Her cup and plate are empty,
No handprints on the living room door,
Or her pinching my phone for a selfie!
Mr Tumble’s not dancing on the screen,
Her books all asleep on the shelf,
These circumstances were unforeseen,
I so miss her joyous self.
No loud voice, shouting out ‘All gone!’
As she spoons in the last of her breakfast,
Cuddles and kisses are down to none,
These were the things that I cherished.
Yesterday I found her sock,
Pushed underneath the couch
A sad and poignant reminder,
She’s not visiting my house.
She’s safe at home with her parents,
I see her grow up on WhatsApp,
Which gives me reassurance,
As I watch the time elapse.
While I contemplate tomorrow,
And these insightful thoughts unfurl,
I realise –
The baby I cuddled 6 weeks ago
is now a little girl! X
Lorraine Weightman
