Spend time looking behind me
for you my son.
Do you trail along dreaming
my toothy six year old, with crab hooks and bacon?
Are you within a hand hold,
my gun loving cowboy,
my skinny argumentative power ranger
with a perchance for Pikachu,
who believed in Father Christmas until he was eleven
(and me to forever curse myself for the lie)?
I miss our warm snuggle
with "Where's Wally?" and our sleepy chats till late.
I miss our tea time - bath time - bed time rituals
and our operatic recitals of the digger tractor song.
Night after night I sang you to sleep under your "Spot the Dog" duvet.
I sang to you the lullabies my mother sang to me,
such ancient dirge.
We had mighty fun
you and I.
Together we were all the super heroes glued into one
and together we were invincible.