The twenty-fourth poem from my poetry collection Conception.

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The day you nearly disappeared,

I knew before it even happened…

That morning when I said something to make you smile
and laughter creased your whole face,
or as I carried you asleep from the car:
your features smooth, serene, untouched.
Something stretched out inside, unzipping me
till I wanted to cry for no reason
except the sheer beauty of it:
so wide that it hurt
trying to hold onto it.

That afternoon you were playing
and then you weren’t.
You’d been climbing the nets
up to the soft-play pirate ship,
I took a phone call,
you were gone.
We searched,
sure you were just around the corner:
scaling new heights,
speeding down the slide
or curled up in the tunnel.
No sign.
We called your name,
scoured outside
through the push door into the pub
and even the exit onto the playground.
Still nothing.
Numb inside,
nausea rising,
we ran round again:
pirate ship; slide; tunnel; pub;
where we finally found you
hiding under a table.

That night I wept tears of tiredness
but lay awake wondering
at how life had changed,
knowing I would never be the same again
and never want to be.

…that fear of loss makes us realise
what we’ve got to lose.