What beautiful things I see

Through the eyes of a once-girl,

She shares an evocation -

Clucking, chuckling, clinging,

Mucky fingers grasping

For things that will never be again,

What is joy in words?

The fruit dribbling down her front,

Dabbed up by mummy,

With that smile reserved for her.

Strawberry jam, plastic plate,

Toast, burnt and buttery,

Oh, there are so many things to see

When watching from behind glass.

I will move beyond the metal,

Finding that special thing she has,

Tucked under the pillow fort,

Or hidden in her hair,

Or at the bottom of the garden.

What kind of alloy would I be,

If childhood could be mine?