Circle Circles

The circle circles roundabout
and finds a way to, neatly, close
without a pause or any doubt.
You’re smiling Mother, I suppose
for, now, it’s mine to hold the hand
to soothe the ego, slightly bruised;
to wipe away the tear drops and
repeat the phrases often used…

“My little one, ignore the pain--
tomorrow brings another dawn.
No rose can grow without the rain.
Until the fear and pain are gone

I’ll hold you thus; encircle you
as circles must”-- as fathers do.