When I was a baby
you’d stroke my head,
flatten my curls
until I slept.
Your fingers curled around the spoon,
an aeroplane,
a train going into a tunnel,
scraping mango from my chin.
You pressed your hands on my back,
pushing me higher,
higher daddy higher,
aiming for the sky.
You hovered over the handlebar,
running by my side,
you said you wouldn’t let go,
you already had.
When I was a girl
I stroked your head,
knotted my fingers in yours,
until you slept.
Lauren Robertson 