IN CELEBRATION OF THE BIRTH OF OUR FIRST GRANDSON AUGUST 9 2015

 IN CELEBRATION OF THE COMING OF JOSEF RHYS

 

Monday’s child is fair of face

Mum-to-be swims

a mile,  freckle-smiling

checks her pulse.

 Not Monday’s child.

 

Tuesday’s child is full of grace

Mum-to-be watches breakfast TV, texts

by return of post, and yawns.

 Not Tuesday’s child.

 

Wednesday’s child is full of woe

Mum-to-be wobble-walks

to a Barnes café, drinks

NCT latté with other Mums in-waiting.

 Not Wednesday’s child.

 

Thursday’s child has far to go

Mum-to-be finger-winds

her hair, glances scullers rowing

up the Thames to Kew.

 Not Thursday’s child.

 

Friday’s child is loving and giving

Mum-to-be drums a tune

on her rolling tum, wonders

if her baby will ever come;

has acu-pressure and a sweep.

 Not Friday’s child.

 

Saturday’s child works hard for a living

Mum-to-be feels the squeeze, contractions,

labour pain- goes into hospital-

and home again.

 Not Saturday’s child.

 

But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day

is bonny & blithe, good and gay

Mum-to-be breathes air and gas

with Dad’s help pushes hard;

At 10.20 the world welcomes Josef Rhys

Sunday’s child.