This poem is dedicated to my cousin Tanith Fester who is growing up to be a lovely, “Little Woman”.
Yesterday? Oh no, 12 years has since passed
For I was 10 when you were born.
Never had I seen a babe so beautiful and so pure.
Stella-Dawn had some difficulties,
So you were born of C-section
Never had I seen a 1 day old babies nails so long and healthy
That to envy any salon.
A big-bush-bunch of liquorice- black hair was planted firmly on your delicate head.
When you head, neck and truck control were adequate
I was allowed to hold you more frequently.
You were always willing if someone was willing to carry you
And oh boy! (I mean oh girl!), was I willing.
Unbeknown to me, you found comfort in my pre-pubescent body
As I did in your baby-soft skin.
An insensitive cousin of ours,
(He was 23 at the time)
Laughed when your hand tucked deep within my sprouting-bud of a bosom.
Needless to say, I swiftly moved your hand away.
Of course, regret over-came me.
As I ambled away I gently tucked your hand
Back to where it belonged.
Mentally, I was plotting our defense
“She’s a babe, she finds comfort at the breast, don’t be silly”
(I always imagine my phrases coming out Victorian so let’s pretend it was something to that effect)
You were 7, and as bright as they come
Wanting to play hide-and-go-seek
That game never tickled my fancy
Even when it was all the rage.
So instead we played some sort of an “adventure” game
Back then I was completely obsessed whit Enid Blyton’s, Secret Seven
(I still am)
I made clues for you to find
At the last station you would get your prize.
The second last clue read:
“Go to the aunt’s’ name which begins with the second letter of the alphabet and who has the body to envy all Twiggys (or so she believes). She will ask of you to repeat and once said correctly she would reveal the hiding place. At the hiding place you are to repeat the word to gain entry and gain a delectable treat”
You must’ve been a literary genius at 7 to read that clue.
The word was, Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.
Confused you were as you approached the hiding place.
You said, “I can’t say the word, but I know my prize is litchis, so can I have them?”
A jolly good laugh I had!
And away you went, peeling and munching.
You are 12 going on 13.
Taller than me already
(Although my height is nothing to aspire to, being 4feet 11inches.)
No more litchi adventures are we to have
Instead there’ll be more experimenting with nail-polish, hair-dos and which antiperspirant combats our sweat glands.
You are my favourite
(But don’t breathe a word of it to anyone!)