Wonder
On the bright thread of time I am nobody’s child On the bright thread of time I am not your mother But some kind of kindred spirit With the power of a larger body We look in the ‘Encyclopaedia of the Human Body’ A serious hardback At the heart in red pumping cross section “In here?”, she pounds her chest with a plump fist “Yes,” I nod, her eyes, clear and round, gaze into mine “In here. Yes”, she nods and runs round the room to hear her heartbeat but can’t tune inside She is all in the moment On to the next thing How babies are made On the bright thread of time.