'Bright, Shiny Things'

She was only knee-high
to a space-hopper. Crazy –
we must have been, the day,
she, her dad and me, decided
to climb that mountain
in Switzerland.

It was but a modest mountain;
the walk was signposted,
all the way; meant to be an hour
and a half, all told. And,
it would have been, I guess –
as the crow flies. Instead,
it took a whole afternoon.

On her dad’s broad shoulders
she rode, for much of the way,
until he stopped to rest. Then, she ran,
through dew-damp grass; reached
for my hand, and tugged me down
with all her strength, toward
vetch, and lace-edged eidelweiss –
had her mesmerised.

A mere moment in time; gone
in a trice, and yet, somehow,
eternally mine, as I bent
into greens, mauves, and pinks –
raindrops, sparkling silver
on a ladybird’s wings...

pudgy, dimpled knees
and azure eyes...a world
where she stood, transfixed
by ‘bright, shiny things’.
She invited me in; amongst
the shimmerings, she took me.