colour envelopes me

featherlight plastic

strikes me

yet I’m struck

with harder material

of which is solid

and real.

it won’t melt

under heat

it won’t deflate

with a puncture

it is concrete, incessant

forever

I stare at my little one

teething on the malleable

germ-riddled sphere

and wonder

if I’m capable

of cutting through

my doubt;

tossing aside

the worry;

overcoming the brutal

avalanche of fear.

and be the perfect

parent

for my perfect

child.