First week away

Counting down

At three
She’ll be home:

An hour remains
Of this week in my own skin
Before I assume the shape and antics
Of Daddy once again.

I should spend
These sixty stolen minutes
Savouring the peace
The lightness of heart and head
Freed from questions
Relieved of needs –
Live a little longer
At a grown-up pace.

But I’m waiting.

Quiet has become
Silence;
Space, emptiness;
Liberty, the lack of her.

And for all I wish her
To go free
Explore
And seize her world

Mine is flat
When she’s not in it
To give it roundness
And horizons.