The Wait

We are on high alert

He sits astride an ocean

Head down, expectant.

Quiet, focussed.

The world halts.

Suspended in time

our lives hang in the breeze

our breaths break like waves

we are the moon and the tide

waiting

but nothing on the horizon.

And then…

A ship.

The tide is out.

He beams.

We whoop.

The world relaxes and turns once more.

-KW, 19/10/2014

There is poetry in potty training. Really, there is.

There is poetry in potty training. Really, there is.

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