During the uncertain years before Anthony and I were engaged, I had a very strange certainty that twirled around in my mind, and whirled around in my stomach. So, one day, I sat down in my little bedsit and wrote about our son-to-be. I sent the poem to Anthony:
THE DREAMCHILD
He waits in a misted capsule
At the corner of my mind
And my thoughts scatter
Through him
Warming cooling him wrapped
A wisp
A fingerbreath of being peering through
Door ajar
A bloodlight outline here
Out of veiled velvet space
The colour of him blinked
Inked in jagged clear
An extension of you
Joined at this corner of misted mind
Seated crosslegged child
A particled preconception
Of something certain
And certain now he waits
For you
His strange cry smiles sunwashed
Into the beating
Beating silence marking time
Timeless
And silence like blue blue air
Sponged cool
His patience a single crimson flame
Poised
Dancing pivot
Of something certain
And certain he waits
Waiting now
We wait
For you
He waits at the corner for you
My child to be
And a few years late, the dreamchild turned into Ming!



