Touch. A belly, A bump.

Feel them kick. Hand clenched tight. “What have you done to me? It’s all your fault!”
Clench eyes shut with a blink. A son.

Cry, cry, CRY. then smile looking at you knowingly.

Cry, Cry, Cry. laugh and wrap fist around your finger. Your little genes, your forever devotion.

Sleep. With the angels, you watch and know their dreaming. Colours, sounds.

Strength flowing, onto all fours, catch them when they roll, help them when they squish.

“Dada” You hesitate, say it again oh dear child of mine, whether a noise or word you will never know.

But it was your name nonetheless.

Patience they grow and learn so fast wanting to do as daddy does.

You help them crawl, talk, toilet, then bike.

Letting go of the handles “I wont let go” but they ride ahead.

Yes.. your doing it son.

Ride on, like the wind.

Look back and you will tumble, so look ahead.

Ride on. Ride on.

Yes…  your doing it; son.