Other people’s children are always frozen
in time, glimpses of birthday parties or sleepovers
or school talent shows; someone else’s little girl
belting out a song; you always standing in the back
not knowing or appreciating what was, what might
come; just caught up in the detritus of your own life
biding time; waiting for it to be over. But it is always there
lurking around the corner . . .Mornings in summertime still come
early, the alarm blaring in your ear
Begin Again 