TO HADASSAH (III)

You have got into the habit of toddling over to me

And stuffing your toys down the front of my shirt.

You shove it there and walk off,

Babbling excitedly.

Your father says it is because my breasts are there –

They have been, all your life;

Heavy with warmth and liquid gold.

To you,

My bosom must be the safest place on earth.

******

You have got into the habit of stuffing your valuables down my shirt

And when you toddle back to me

Seconds later to retrieve them,

The look on your face tells it all;

You are confident you’d find them

Right where you kept them.

To you,

There is no surer place.

******

You will soon outgrow this phase.

You will soon find that

Physical things can’t practically be kept down Mama’s shirt.

You will soon be weaned off these breasts

That taught you to trust the constancy of my chest.

But I promise you this,

With all of me,

No matter how many phases you outgrow

For you,

I’ll keep my bosom the safest place on earth.

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