English, Poetry


Her mother had made the cone
from soft pink cardboard, cut
hearts and cats from purple paper
and attached a stretch of doilies to the side.

Her mother had made the jumper,
knitted the pink pig pattern and stripes 
set in silver on cool summer evenings, 
while her father worked.

Though it looks like the first,
this was her second day at school.
Looking back, I recognise the angles 
of her fingers, her ears poking through strands of hair.

All her future impatience contained in that smile.


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