A Short Poem on New Motherhood in my Childhood Home.

I dreamt in this bedroom so much as a kid.

The treehouse room.

Overlooking the paddocks.

And the tree out the window, which changes colour and is currently sporting leaves of deep red.

(Funny I never paid much attention to that tree. Now it feels every morning and evening is enveloped in it).

And I’m dreaming again.

Head hitting the pillow in the exact same place it did all those childhood and teen years.

Dreaming.

As far as the furthest flung stars in the sky.

This time with a baby on my lap.

My boy.

It’s extraordinary.