Monday morning

When I left my house this morning I saw a baby’s head. It was sat on the path, looking at me through the one eye it had left. The baby’s head was of course not that of a real baby, rather the skull of a now incomplete doll. But it got me thinking. It reminded me of my baby. Its blue eye twinkled and told me secrets. Secrets of how its head fell off. Secrets of how my baby’s head fell off. My baby’s head is not real either, but if it was I imagine it would fall off and land on the path for someone to find on their way to work. That’s just the kind of luck I have.

© Carl Burkitt 2016

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