In the sunken garden
adjacent to Clara’s
I watch a young girl,
not long learned to walk,
explore excitedly,
her father close behind
in case she should fall.
She moves onto the grass,
crouches down, touches a daisy,
stands up again.
Does it repeatedly.
“You can do that” I think
“I can’t do that” – need
support to pull myself up.
Enjoy yourself young lady
for it is all downhill from there.
Whitby Writers Group 