Ode to the Kids*

*in homage to my wife, and with apologies to John Keats…

My beautiful, bouncing baby girls,
How I ache with sorrow when not with you.

Your daydreaming smiles,
Innocent questions about
Every
Living thing, thought and action,
Fill me with pride.

(especially now, as my flight taxis the runway and I head 2,000 miles away)

Such envy I hold watching you find
So much life and interest in the
Humdrum of things.

A lonely, curled up leaf on the pavement.
A fridge magnet.
Your own feet.

Your energetic dancing.
Your breathless monologues.
Your spillages!
I will miss them all.

Instead, in this hushed cabin,
33,000ft above the world,
Uninterrupted iPod listening must I endure.
. Children’s tears nearby belong not to me.

With melancholic ponder I sip my drink.
Dine alone.
My dishes cleared by others.
Counting the hours until am home again.

 But, first, I close my eyes.

My beautiful, bouncing baby girls,
How I ache with sorrow when not with you.

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