His body has outgrown him momentarily
awkward long limbs
fill every inch of spare space
in the room he occupies.
Once a bedroom,
now a bolthole
to escape,
retreat,
from the adult world he longs to embrace.
He eats his body weight in cereal
and thinks nothing of polishing off two dinners
in one sitting.
He has man’s jaw and the eyes of a child
His voice is deep but his silence deafening.
Now taller than me, with broad shoulders
and strong arms. He lifts me easily
from the ground - just for fun.
Like I once did him – spinning us both
round and round
until we are both dizzy.
He likes to call me ‘Mutherrrr’ –
in exaggerated fashion.
And hugs are dished out with jovial
and dramatic enthusiasm.
It’s a façade we play out – making a ‘comedy’ of love.
A daily fix of drama, worthy of Shakespeare,
performed expertly to hide the embarrassment
of seeking comfort and needing love.
He has yet to realise - that love is a natural
human condition and it’s omission
destroys the soul.
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