There’s a tiny face;
A little nodding head,
Eyes too young to focus,
Looking at Mum.
A tiny face,
Smaller than my hand,
Skin still bigger than needed;
Lots of room for growth.
Intense attention
In his tiny wrinkled forehead
As he turns his face up
To look at his Mum.
Across the ocean
And far away
Like a dream I see him.
And the earth cracks open beneath me;
The ocean parts the waves
And my heart explodes.
READ OTHER POEMS BY SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD