“what do you like most about her?” you ask
and his brow furrows and his face tightens into a pensive line
“her braces, ” he replies, 16 and certain
also today your friend demolishes a wall to rescue a trapped kitten, five weeks of tortoiseshell fluff and squeak and
your coworker shares her hidden drawer of Cadbury chocolate for those times of internal screaming
another friend sits in the rain and captures water droplets on winter magnolia blooms
and later you’re in a car with someone who feels like safety and together on Canterbury Rd in peak hour
your voices harmonise so there is space for both breath and laughter
and today a kid who has screamed and cried and thrown Lego at the wall for a month looks at you and smiles
for the first time.
Word upon Word 