Thrive
Baby Alice thrived on her mummy's milk.
Blowing bubbles to the clouds.
Wee lass, a smile, a banana mouth with full blooming lips.
A sparkle in her eye. So trusting, so helpless.
The fawn walks within minutes.
We hold our head, roll over, sit, crawl.
Baby Alice heaved herself onto her feet,
clinging to the coffee table,
the bookcase shelf.
She thrived on the puréed fruit:
media manzana, media platano, media naranja.
On the mashed vegetables, potato, carotte, spinach
mixed with a mince of red meat, fish or chicken.
Baby Alice thrived on the Barcelona sunshine,
the sweet air of Elie du Bois.
She took her first steps at a wedding in Sitges.
Baby Alice was lazy.
She wanted the pushchair to ride to Square Nougaro,
Les Minimes, in Toulouse.
So she had it, but she wasn't in it !
She walked behind it,
held on to the sides and rolled it to the park.
Little Alice thrived on the games,
the swing by the seaside,
at the Robert Louis Stevenson park on the beach at Alum Chine.
Little Alice dug holes and fashioned forts.
She buried herself in the sand,
her head sticking out like a rugby tee.
Little Alice jumped in the waves and
sat on the edge, toes wriggling among the seashells.
The tide gently lapped at her legs.
And suddenly, it turned a trick,
slapped her full in the face.
'Spurt, spurt, sting, sputter. Pouah!
The gigantic shark-carrying waves in La Reunion
were far too threatening.But little Alice thrived winding in and out,
rushing through the bambou maze.
Behold her first meeting with the mosquitoes.
A spotted dick, more like a pea-spattered bean !
Little Alice thrived singing
Here we go round the Mulberry Bush, a fat conniver.
She stomped up the mound shouting,
'The Grand old Duke of York...'
And then, in late spring, who should come along ?
Baby Emma: a playmate, a companion, a doll...
And the merry-go-round thrived on a brand new tune.