A trilling laugh like sparkling wine
Two sturdy little arms wrestling the unseen pirate who lurks around the house;
A wet , dirty little face peering at me from under the bed ;
My morning smells like a buttered toast and fine Darjeeling.
I see him stomping on a puddle of rain water, a sword made of a broomstick in hand;
My morning follows me to soothe the bruises made during the day.
I get ready for the day's race to begin and look at the furtive glances thrown at me
He comes slowly to me and inhales my perfume deeply.
I cant lift him in my arms easily nowadays,so I bend and muss his hair.
I open the car door and turning, I see a a pair of almond eyes deliberately ignoring me
And looking at the toy soldier in hand instead...
My day begins with a small hand tugging the strings that bind me to my world without him.
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