Darling,
I'm always struck, when I hold you and your siblings,
That at the top, where eyes are drawn,
where we might say you have a face,
You are at your most fragile.
For a while you can withstand a lot
But before long, fragility meets the brutality of the world,
And I'm taking much more care.
I don't mind, by the way.
But the whole time,
From the first meeting,
I'm struck
Not shocked
But struck at the solidity
the power
of your formidable core.
What a contrast with that delicate face!
Then I see—or remember—
That the core extends
All the way up.