NOW YOU ARE THREE


Words fly from your mouth like curious birds

or drift, like seeds, on a late summer’s day.

How rich your lexicon is!  Language learning

is encrypted – a secular miracle.

 

You do a cherubic ‘Twinkle, Twinkle,

Little Star’ – and a thrash metal version!

You know your first and surname – sound them clear

as for a roll-call, announcing your

determined, fragile independence.

 

“What’s dat?”, “Why?” You are avid for knowledge,

understanding.  Someone says, “Heavens above.”

“What’s ‘heaven’ mean, Grandma and Grandpa?”

We haven’t the heart to say, “Only the sky.”

 

You do not know and never will just how much

your first three years have changed our lives: seeing you

squirm, smile, crawl, walk, talk – begin to master

letters and colours. You paint in rich hues

with brush, sliced potato, your tiny hands.

You touch black print with pale finger tips,

as if to gently conjure it to speech,

reveal to you its coded, grown-up secrets.

 

 

 

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  1. #1 by Keith Johnson - March 24th, 2017 at 12:49

    ‘You touch black print with pale finger tips,

    as if to gently conjure it to speech,

    reveal to you its coded, grown-up secrets’ … wonderful!

    Loved the poem, David – thanks so much.

  2. #2 by David Selzer - March 24th, 2017 at 13:05

    Thank you, Keith.

  3. #3 by Ashen Venema - March 27th, 2017 at 18:42

    ?

  4. #4 by Ashen Venema - March 27th, 2017 at 18:43

    the last comment seems to come up as a question mark but was meant to be a heart 🙂

  5. #5 by Liz Warham - April 20th, 2017 at 07:52

    Hello David

    We worked together many years ago.
    I recall your kindness following my illness.
    I came across your poetry only recently and I have been very moved by your writing.
    We are about to have our first grandchild so this poem touched my heart.
    I write too, prose rather than poetry and as yet unpublished.

(will not be published)

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