My mind’s eye gives me
your two year-old’s fascination
with the first butterfly, and the frown
on your six year old face
when we stared into a muddy pond
and you explained the wonder
of frogspawn turning to tadpoles.
I hear echoes of laughter
at your response to the cuckoo
as, with other long-limbed adolescents,
you wandered off to spend the day
messing about on the river.
I hold these thoughts,
fragile as eggshells fallen from a nest,
and the palimpsest
of your adult face
on the cruelty of a rainbow
and sharp spring sunshine
on the day you come home,
flag-draped and with full military honours,
from that foreign war.
Sue Kauth has been writing for as long as she can remember which feels about a hundred years. After a few competition successes she has finally summoned the courage to submit to magazines. She lives in Somerset where deer and badgers regularly visit the garden.