Whatever’ll Happen to Baby James?

 

Dedicated to the newborn child of my good friends, who happens to share my forename: wishing him every happiness, every simple joy and all the love in the world.

 

 

It’ll start with steps. At first, a waddle,

Wary wandering: but in time

Your doddling will become a doddle,

Your staggered gait will go sublime.

Those dreamy words which few can hear

Will take on colour, shape and form:

Soon speech will grin from ear to ear

And fantasies become the norm.

You’ll unlock books and all their song,

And they’ll delight in your young chorus:

And so, bright prince, it shan’t be long

Before your lyrics dance before us.

 

Take sweet time: live wide-eyed, beloved and mild

And all such loves will be your gift, sweet child.

 

Whenever I write a poem for a youngster, it becomes a sort of lullaby; and I’m reminded of a sweet and sincere song by Paul Weller, written I believe for his own son:

 

 

“Through your new eyes I’ve come to see
How beautiful my life can be:
And I’ll keep this wish this time, I think,
And blow it in with a kiss upon your head;

And I hope the world will heal itself
And our worn out souls along with it,
So that you will get the chance to see
A summers blue sky behind green trees…”

 

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