Portable

A week and a half ago I attended the Civic Engagement Fair, which was wonderfully orchestrated by the City of London in collaboration with the Urban League. I sometimes take my daughter, Freya, to events like this, but this time I was on my own. I was chatting to Shawna by the coffee and snacks table and she commented that I’m lucky that Freya, at six months old, is still at the age where’s she’s “portable”. That chat inspired this poem 🙂

I’m lucky
that my baby’s so portable
light and bright and adorable
in my arms supportable
I don’t have no fear at all
to take you with me everywhere I go
people think it’s cute I got baby in tow
more than that – you’re the star of the show
you light up the room and your smile melts snow

You’re portable not potable
I’d drink you if I could
you’re jokeable you’re sociable
you’re sweet and quiet and good

But soon it won’t be so easy for me
when you’re one or two or maybe even three
cos toddlers wander, find things to grab and chew
it’s not their fault, it’s what they’re designed to do
exploring, discovering, curiosity
that’s the next thing that’s in store for me

but for now, I’m happy
that you love your Daddy
you grab my beard and my hair so shaggy
playful, curious but safe in my embraces
I feel free, amazingly, and I can go places
we greet the world together with our happy faces

being without you now would be insupportable
I’m glad that for now you’re portable
cos baby you’re so missable
so sweet and soft and kissable
I’m lucky that you’re portable
I’m lucky

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