Of another milestone, I’m appraised
Thomas – seven – woeful gaze
Kneels modestly with hand outstretched;
I read his mother’s careful text …
First baby tooth lies in his palm
It wobbled, fell out like a charm
A rite of passage we all know
As Nature moulds us as we grow.
Clear sign that Thomas grows apace
And new tooth soon will fill the space.
More castles follow in its wake
Though a crooked smile is hard to take!
But how to make good this sad loss?
At such moments Mum is boss;
Thomas does as he is bid
Tooth soon under pillow hid.
At night a whirring of small wings
Tooth fairy flits and bright coin brings
She leaves it nestling in warm space
At dawn - of tooth there is no trace…
(c) Poet in the woods 2021
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