Sophie and Matthew

When nights drew late like stolen sweets;

When pudding was served, warm and sticky,

by our white-haired Granny;

When I chased your little white legs

through the long grass -

and I pounced, and you screamed,

and your cheeks were red

from laughing too much;

When the dressing-up box under the bed

held the garb

of Princes and Fairies, of Geishas and Beggars

who turned carpets to oceans, and beds to ships;

When justice was a matter between Us,

and sides were picked, two against one,

before Betrayal, Punishment, Forgiveness

were played out

as surely as snow must

fall to the ground;

When you fell down lifeless

until a smile cracked

over the whole world of your freckled faces;

When all the mouths that kissed us, hands that held us,

Loved us

We began to learn of

the Blackness of the sky,

the Particularity of seconds,

the Ubiquity of difference -

these nameless wells that would one day

rise up and quell

the myth and urgency of Age.

The Theatre hardened to a doll's house.

The sound of traffic, cruelty, silence

grew louder, whiter, stranger.

I wonder when we had cried more

for hearts than for knees,

and when we realised we would grow old

and see some things vanish,

others appear.