Saturday 26 December 2009

Santa

Here is your present,

well wrapped-up by Ma and Pa.

It’s you! Ho, ho, ho!!


Thursday 24 December 2009

After school, a Down’s boy

climbs eleven steps to his room, puts on

a DVD, drops himself into magic,

colour, drumming; this is a time to be:


a time of sweet adolescence, childlike wisdom,

in love with attending to buttons, his world’s Aladdin,

asking, wishes, lost in treasure troves.

Wednesday 23 December 2009

Sing!

When Andrew bursts out singing;

first – a shock – and then delight

like a snow-fox seeking freedom

dots a barren moonscape,

catching pools of light.


He sings without a warning

- other throats join in - my son

donates his heart and voicebox,

irrepressible life-force

croons outlandish songs.


Sunday 20 December 2009

‘Perfect’ said the Downs’ boy

‘How about marmite toast’ I said.

‘Perfect’ came a quick reply

and, with a push, a magic toast rack

kick-starts time - he nods his head.

No need for clocks, he’s on his way

when chewing starts a perfect day.


‘You’re luckier than most’ he means

‘but miss the move when life’s imperfect.’

A hand is ticking, ever moving,

clocking now with chances perfect.

Perfect every passing minute,

perfect as a melting snowflake.