Shutting the door: a poem

Shutting the door

There’s a time
Around the age of four
When your child learns to shut her door
She looks shy when you hear her imaginary phone
And she asks to watch the DVD alone
She’s just as sweet, she’s just as caring
But some things become private, not for sharing

You remember fondly when there was never a game
Which didn’t prompt her to call your name
All those imaginary cups of tea
One plastic saucer for you and one for me
And when did her arms and chubby thighs
Double in length and halve in size?

When you cuddle her and shut out the cold
There’s just so much of her to hold
And when people ask her age you round it down
Which makes her cast a little frown

It’s so easy to forget or be carried away
By mundane living, the day-to-day
So I’ll try to remember when she next wants to play
To join her on the floor and put the washing away.

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