as my father read to us.
it is about cadence.
rhythm. shared
heartbeats and the journey.
reading is magical for Millie.
Sometimes she will take my hand,
my finger. Place it
on the text so that she can follow
more closely.
the other two read easily, but for her
each word is a window and
i watch her push them open.
i burst
i burst
Child, slip over the sill.
run. Run. you inhabit your body
so fully. Jump.
dance.
here is a jumble of letters.
make of them what you will.
.
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Some of my most precious memories are of my Dad reading poetry to my little brother and me. Rupert Brooke, Longfellow, Alfred Noyes ...
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