2005
The cupboard door closes
On old toys which have lost
Their charm.
Baubles that warbled
Or rattled are despatched
Into the charity’s sack;
Baby-days are over.
You are three.
There are letters to pattern,
Numbers’ mysteries to fathom,
Tunes to note
And colours to shade.
Fading shadows shrink
Before the knowing light
Now childhood’s sun is climbing.
A world takes shape
Snatch at it.
Catch it.
Discovery begins.
Excitement quickens.
You are three.