The Gift of You (a poem)

(post #10)

a month long gathering-up of this real heart and life: see all posts here

You bound in my door, banging screen into begonias.
“Auntie! There is this thing –
And I want to do –
And can we make –
And can I read – ?”

I want to throw my head back in laughter, and I do,
because you are like a train engine,
pulling cars full of ideas,
cars full of plans,
rolling along on tracks made thick with joy.

I didn’t know you had been missing from our days
until you came, child.
I didn’t know you would be
exactly what I’d need.

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