DAUGHTER

They say eyes are the place where love begins.

Yours are blue:

not sad, forlorn or tearful as in a thousand songs,

but strong and brave.

In them I see you

swinging from monkey-bars with arm in cast,

or taking a cardboard box toboggan

down the stairs.

Also hand on hip,

upbraiding me for some dim-wittedness,

with mock exasperation

and a grown-up turn of phrase.

My pearl with pigsty hair

not often tamed,

whatever the choice of clips and grips and bands:

You are the rose that hatched.

i.2003