She looks on, touches the wood and fabric
With a hand full of memories.
Fleeting glimpses of former decades
Gleam on her face as they pass.
Her daughter, desperately tired,
Just needs some night time peace
And personal privacy;
Nostalgia is a misplaced indulgence.
…And you, the small being in the pushchair:
I can only guess at the dreams in your sleeping head
As they regard the options for your first bed.
Jo Hansen 