The road he travels was my attempt at staring out at the world through the eyes of an infant. It occurred to me that there would be this innocent ignorance that would veil how a child perceives the things around him but that there would still be a lot that he'd be exposed to that he might understand in future.
The road he travels
What good is a day
last seen travelling down the
River Thames carrying on
with all the reckless joy of
a new born babe?
New formed lungs struggling with
cries of hunger and helpless rage,
His mother has not crept up to
his crib today, has not kissed
his healthy brow or felt his
toasty skin steaming beneath
a pair of Spongebob sheets,
He has not seen her nor his
father, salt and pepper beard
that tickles his little nose until
he sneezes and bubbles pop as
he lifts his head to laugh at this
stranger holding him to the light.
But there are no visits,
he’s grown too big for baby’s crib,
too wise to comprehend why this
woman he does not know croons to him
or why his father only waves to him
from a little perch there by the
window sill, his eyes as grey as
morning rain while tears drip down
to fill the puddles by his cup.
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