3 again

Christmas came, then went

Leaving me overstuffed with sweet things

My son has ridden out

On his new bicycle

Tweeted it on last years tablet

Gangled his long limbs into new jumpers

Rolled his old-fashioned eyes at jokes

Smiled his easy way through slow days

Stretched on the sofa

Unlike me, oblivious to the time

Swiftly passing

Today he found a box of old toys

Spent two hours slotting wooden rails into pleasing curves

Marshalling brightly painted carriages

Careless of the dead battery in Thomas the Tank’s engine

Between Christmas and the turning year

There should always be a window

Where we can be three again