automatic
- like the hand
  reaching
in the dark
  for the glass
beside the bed

A rabbit eating strawberries from a yellow bowl.

Lola is dancing 
in her one-piece blue pyjamas.
The sun is swatting parts of the room -
the shade bites into the glare, leaving blades of light.

The song playing is her favourite. 

She stands legs astride 
& sings a good guess at the chorus,
mangling half the words,
but it does not matter.

She is the glory in this morning.

We have completed a jigsaw 
for the first ever time
& it now lies on the floor 
like a forgotten masterpiece.

It is of a rabbit eating strawberries from a yellow bowl.

She arches over until
her head touches the floor
spreading her arms outwards
she holds this pose - it is impressive.

I implore her to take a bow & she acquiesces.

I'm playing all her favourite songs.
It is an intentional manipulation
I am not ashamed to admit committing.
& anyway, it generates joy for us both.

& what could possible be wrong with that.

We have spread a snowdrift of paper across
the living room floor, practising writing letters
and primordial poetry. 

& what could possible be wrong with that.