I hold her hand near water’s edge
And then let go when safe as seen,
I laugh and watch, she jumps a hedge
To fall on grass without a bleed.
We wander on, beside the stream
And talk in words made new last week,
Use horsey, doggy, pig and cow
And Urdu, kill, and bungalow.
When she was three she heard our words
And rhymed them with vacuity,
She rhymed them with a knowing look
And put them in her mental book.
It dreads me that one awful day
Her words her thoughts all not constrained,
By me nor one who talks alike
Allows her hate where none was mimed.
We know I know I’m not her dad
Her mum is still a shadow had,
My dreams a caste of hope gone bad
Pale seeds that time has roasted black.