|Easter Sunday, chocolate and boys,|
two of my very favouritest things.
|Taller this year, tall enough to see things never seen before.|
Next year a dimpled smile will rise above the numbers
and my heart will sadden just a titch
as childhood strays a little farther out of my panicked reach.
|Magenta pearl in a pussywillow crook, waits.|
|Pine needles, new grass, rustling leaves.|
My baby's shining face glows in morning light.
|Who has more chocolate? Who has more laughter? More joy? More love?|
No one more than me.