Lego, army figures, tanks and trains
wooden railway encircling planes
worlds in your head
worlds in your hands
You could grow up to be an engineer
but how can I know the future from here
all I’m sure of
is who you are now
Absorbed in your game, oblivious
the creations you make, ingenious
lost in your world
your world is us
Wiry arms wrapped around my neck
my stubble prickling your smooth cheek
kiss, cuddle, kiss
not letting go.
This poem was inspired watching my son playing and thinking about the world as he might see it, but written from my perspective as a father.
the din of musak and milk frothers,
clatter of cups and kitchen,
into the grey chill of George Street.
A silent stream of people glide in either direction,
slipping on into their lives.
Then staccato pips of a crossing signal,
roar of a bus, several cars
and a small truck
intrude themselves into our being.
A benefit of my goal to read 1001 poems is that I am gradually beginning to think more poetically, to notice moments that could be captured in a poem, perhaps similar to how a photographer learns to see the light and composition that would make a good photograph. Yesterday as I stepped out of a cafe onto Dunedin’s main street there was a moment of silence with no traffic noise just at that instant before the traffic signals changed and life seemed to rush onwards again.