The Child Inside

Child of mine
You never came
I searched for you
In blunted ways
Watching 'if onlys'
Rise and fade
Into gathering gusts
Where girls and boys
Of others played
With crowds of kites
Thick paint, bleached skies
Fist tight grips
Held with all their might
Like my wishes once flown
When all looked bright

Yet the words now torn
From these pages, ripped
Drag my pulse from winter's gates
Stitch arms and legs and head
(As if I was just the same as old)
Like a story Mary Shelley once told
Of one lost creature searching for a soul

No story ends without its start
Though blossoms still knit pinks and blues
Which spill at centres, outgrow their nest
For every season has its fall
And the child inside I call my own
Once left cornered, sucking thumbs,
Unknown
Now spins cartwheels towards my home