TWO SONNETS FOR CHELSEA AT AGE 6

I

All the moods and manners of a woman,
Are encoded in your six-year-old-girl’s brain.
And the sorrows, joys and tensions of a lifetime,
Are, for you, in every moment, there contained.
How is it you’re not blown apart by anger?
What strength ensures that hearts like your don’t break?
When the merest look or word can start you crying,
Aphonic with a passion you can’t speak.
You love me and you hate me and you can’t care less,
Though you know a dozen ways that I should change.
You hate me and you love me, more than words express.
How is it that I cause you so much pain?
It’s no great mystery, if I may be so bold,
That all of your best friends are other six-year-olds!

II

You’re Bliss, you’re Tenderness, you’re Grace Incarnate,
Your beauty is a sight I scarce can bear;
When, fresh from your bath, you sit down beside me,
And scream as I attempt to comb your hair.
Someday I know this too will be behind us,
Someday you will emerge out of this dream,
Someday you will call off this childish conflict,
Someday …perhaps when you are seventeen?
Now we struggle through this lengthy transformation,
As, like a butterfly, you shift and re-define,
Using all the power of imagination,
Your personality to redesign.
Deep within your brain’s cells chemicals combine,
I scramble over eggshells, to avoid your heart’s landmines.