12.My First Child
In her arms and in her heart Lie its ten fingers and ten toes. The baby is so soft So soft that you can see It will be that way Even when full grown.
Her love for it- however - is hard: Though this love is wrapped In sun, in bubbles, in coos, In cashmere & cuddles- It is hard Harder than stone.
So I watch her with the tiny thing (all country water & cloudy eyes) & see her love for it as a waste: It's a love that would be better used On something (or someone) With more muscle, more fibre. More backbone.