Millie at 16
A waking stretch and then you try a run
the only time of day you want to play
wipe out in a valiant lunge for Bear.
Carried to a kitchen you can’t reach
your little tongue still laps my fingertip
then you whinge for breakfast and a shit
and need another drink a minute later.
Morning shift achieved, you try a patrol.
Teetering across the floor, you sniff
for jellied muffin, bacon, bits of cheese
till suddenly your back legs slump again
and you sit back like a baffled sphinx
and make peculiar sounds and stare at me
and struggle to get up. Exhausted soon
you tip back on the blanket for a snore.
This evening I will escort you outside.
We’ll tour the patio and from the ledge
stare into the failing arms of day
your shuddering hack and ever watery eye
your face of ivory curls gone brown as tea.
We’ll stay awhile because I can’t leave
and I’ll lean in and whisper in your ear.
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