I saw you born.
It was remarkable.
You shot out from between your mother’s legs
like a rugby ball from a scrum
and the stocky Geordie midwife caught you neatly
and cried ‘Whoops! She’s come!’
You had a wrinkled jammy head
and spasmy legs like a portly frog’s.
From your belly button a white root waved
that had fed you all the months you’d grown
and ripened in your mother’s womb.
And let me tell you – I’m ashamed –
I forgot your mother completely – she had been
those things to me that one day you’ll discover
in someone else, and think ‘God, this is it!’
– My sweetheart, my warm dear, my red hot lover –
But for those moments, as the doctor
shoved cotton wool up your flat nose
and swabbed your eyes and cleaned your bum
I forgot completely all my life and love
and watched you like a pool of growing light
and whispered to myself ‘She’s come! She’s come!’
And this is the poem I wrote:
I saw you married.
It was beautiful.
You glided down the aisle
like a swan on a lake
and the people were turning
and crying, ‘Look, she’s come!’
You had an angel’s face
and a smile that stunned the millions.
From your hands, a bouquet waved
waving, smiling at me
the least important in this ritual.
And let me tell you – I’m so proud
to see you there on that day,
taking the vows whilst your mother was bawling
next to me, my beautiful wife, the same
as you were about to become to someone else.
But for those moments, as you glanced at my face,
asking with your eyes if it was all ok, I forgot
all my life and love and watched you,
smiling, a small glint of happiness in this sad world,
and whispered to myself ‘Look, she’s come!’
Not the best thing I've ever written, and poetry doesn't like me very much, but... there you have it.