Child Whisperer

A sonnet about step-parenting

She remarried in a hopeful year,
changing the pattern, thread by thread.
She sewed on angels like a prayer
for clinging girls who shared a bed.

They slept beneath the quilt of heaven.
The mauve bedspread hid their cold dread
of losing mum to a new dad here.
The silk of love is sewn blood-red

and challenged mums need time for repair.
Embroidery starts inside your head
with delicacy, tact, firm fingers, care.

Now, stepdad had to learn to thread
a needle’s eye or a child’s ear,
whispering as to a thoroughbred.

— from a verse-novel in progress.

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