Musings

In a few days it will be 5 years since Social Services rejected my application to adopt a little boy. As if I need one more thing to haunt me around the Christmas Season.  Regardless, it has struck me that the five year old I might have adopted would be about ten years old now; and the ten year old I might have adopted would now be fifteen.  I can only imagine what joy and heartache I have missed.

I was cleaning out the spare room and came across the following poem.  I can't place an exact date on it, but it's obvious to me, it was written at a time when I was very confident I would be approved, or that I was starting to really fear it wouldn't happen.


Little man O little man, where have you come from?
Big man O big man, from a dark spot on the Sun.
Little man O little man, where are you going to?
Big man O big man, I've come to live with you!

I was headed down a long road, looking for a little spark.
You popped up like a beacon, shining in the dark.
Like a match touched to a candle, your love flared so bright.
So I reached out and took you by the hand, and I knew that it was right.

Big man O big man, have I said that love you?
Little man O little man, in all you say and do!


Like any poem I've ever written, it's all treacly and cloying.  Call it a true reflection of the continual emotional turmoil I find myself in this year.