My bundle of joy

The tiny hands

that once rocked the cradle

to my joy and laughter

The softened voice

that now calls me apa

and quizzes me

with queer queries

The restive  toddler

clutching on to me

like a shadow

tagging along

at my heels

everywhere

The cheerful face

that hails my return home

every time
in elation

expecting
gratifications to relish

The truant

playing many tricks

and pranks

heightening the mother’s

bollocking

are the laps
down the memory lane

run by the apple of my eyes,

my bundle of joy

my joy for ever