Child in Chair Gazing

Today in d/Verse a poem of our own choice. This poem originally appeared in ‘a fine line’ New Zealand Poetry Society’s bi-monthly journal. The little girl is my great-granddaughter. I’ll let the poem tell the story. She still looks at me like this. To me an old soul been here before. I adore her.

for Riria

It’s not just your red shoes
with their black soles,
your pretty tulle skirt,
gold embossed stars;
your little white top
with airy cap sleeves
so suitable for a warm
Christmas Day. Reindeer
head and antlers, sequinned
in red. Or your white,wide-
brimmed hat, (how come,
that at two years, you didn’t
throw it away) a halo surrounding
your dark curls, brown eyes.

It might be your serious
contemplative, kaumatua like gaze,
that fixes in our minds
the child’s wicker chair;
an antique sitting in Uncle’s house.
No great exertion to climb into
and there sitting so still, no smile,
hardly aware of us all. Even when
the other children ran in
and out of the room you’d
found your exact spot, you
didn’t nod off, nor did you
alter your gaze for such
a long time for one so young.

Sitting minus cushions
never bothered you, nor
did it call for adjustments
once you’d settled there;
Christmas Day portrait
of child in a chair.

© Benita H. Kape December, 2017/January 10? 2018

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