Ten
She rests her tiny, baby bird fingers calmly in my hand
Her skin is soft, her bones still growing
Fresh and innocent as a snow drop
Hardy as a winter hare
Some days I can embrace her in return
She smiles with delight on those days
Mainly, she is just present – as solid as an ageing tree
Always waiting for me to drop if only so she can help me up again
Storybook or real we all need a presence in the world
We sit in silence by the window –
Ten seconds, Ten minutes, Ten hours
Getting through the days
Even after twenty years
The old behaviours are still there
The ones which keep me safe from the outside world
But also deprives me of the simple pleasures that I can create for myself
I hope in time that I will simply be able to open my front door – and leave
I would not look back, it would be a journey just for us
We would entwine fingers, look into each others’ eyes
And run – as if we have been waiting for this escape
For many days too long.
JAE ROSE 
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