On the Bright Thread of Time

On the bright thread of time
I am nobody’s child
On the bright thread of time
I am not your mother
But some kind of kindred spirit
With the power of a larger body

We look in the ‘Encyclopaedia of the Human Body’
A serious hardback
At the heart in red pumping cross section
“In here?”, she pounds her chest with a plump fist
“Yes,” I nod, her eyes, clear and round, gaze into mine
“In here. Yes”, she nods
and runs round the room to hear her heartbeat
but can’t tune inside
She is all in the moment
On to the next thing
How babies are made
On the bright thread of time.