Poem for a Granddaughter

You’re hell-bent on travelling half-way
round the world, on this gap-year thing –
I can see it in your eyes. Wish I could
convince you otherwise...that in this life,
you can’t have everything you want,
but you can, of a summer’s night,
hear the stars sing.

You can have the magnolia tree, with its
custard cupped, saucer-like blooms...
the touch of your young cousin’s chubby digits,
as he sits on your knee – investigates your nose –
bent on stealing your specs, and settles, instead,
for your jangly bunch of keys.

You can get high on the smell of apple-wood
and pine, from the smoke of a distant bonfire,
as you fondle the cat – prone on your lap
legs – akimbo. You can know that feeling
of coming in from the rain, and can thank Him
on high, if you believe in such things,
for dodging the flu, when half your friends
are down with it.

You can travel back in time by looking at photos
of some pigtail-happy kid they say is you, watching
a kite run rings around the sun in that wide, blue yonder
of a place known as childhood. You can have the knowledge –
unlocks a myriad of doors, or throw away the key; the choice
is yours....be truly mesmerised by Mahler’s Fifth...thankful
they invented Sudocrem for zapping your zits.

You can stand on your toes – reach for the moon,
and who am I to call you a fool – even to think
one day you might just make it? You can’t have
everything, but you can ignore folk who tell you so.
People like me; those who have forgotten how to dream...
for that is all, and much more.