The way their blond hair hums in the sunlight.
The way their faces find new expressions
for every syllable.
The way they want to unwrap the universe:
What are caterpillars made of?
What holds the world together?
Today we danced in the living room
and fell on the floor in a family heap.
Puffing little tummies, fluorescent giggles.
My wife caught my eye and it lit upon us
how warm and unquotable the world is
when pressed against your cheek.
Then the afternoon slipped into the past.
Perhaps this is why I write.
To clutch at the light as it turns through my fingers.
First published in Byline 2015: An Anthology of Poetry and Prose from Tauranga Writers