Beattie Is Three

4sbesot

 

Beattie Is Three

 

At the top of the stairs

I ask for her hand. O.K.

She gives it to me.

How her fist fits my palm,

A bunch of consolation.

We take our time

Down the steep carpetway

As I wish silently

That the stairs were endless.

 

Adrian Mitchell

 

I love the way these few lines so eloquently capture the poet’s thoughts, and the thoughts of any of us who have children in our lives.

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