For a last born child

A blessing, for the dverse prompt.


I would see you fly on white swan’s wings

to where your dreams glow burnished blue.

I would have you roll in dusky clouds

of scented rose and balmy winds.

I would give you all my heart’s desire

for I have no need of more than this.


For you, my last born, last wish, starfall,

I’d give you worlds of gentleness

and strength to heal and mend

the broken things that touch your heart.

I would wrap your dreams in spider silk

so strong it never ever breaks.


And had I the sun and moon at my command

I would have them fill your days with gold

and your nights with silver of the owl’s breast.

Published by

Jane Dougherty


78 thoughts on “For a last born child”

      1. Maybe the fatigue is why this was so soft. I think so. I found it hauntingly beautiful. What I would give for my mother to have penned something like this. What any child would. I expect she has to be lovely as she comes from you though I know this is no steadfast rule. I also know anything you do you do well (I know you will protest this but I will simply stomp my foot and insist)

      2. She was a quiet peaceful baby who did everything she was supposed to, like sleep at night, walk and talk early, smile a lot and idolize her big brother and sisters. She was always happy. She still is, and I hope she stays that way 🙂

  1. I had to wonder at the absence of sibling rivalry in your house. This wouldn’t float in mine. However, it is certainly
    esthetically lovely.

    1. I write poems about all of them at different times and for different reasons. They are all special in different ways, and I think they recognize it. If ever they read one of my poems, they share the love 🙂

      1. Apart from the terrible first v second child sibling rivalry we haven’t had any unpleasantness between them. They seem to be happy when one of them has a piece of good news and not be jealous. But they are all individuals, and our role as parents is partly to know them well enough to treat each one so that he/she recognizes the love.

      2. I have a feeling that’s the exception rather than the rule, but it probably relates to other things as well. Some people are naturally less touchy than others. If number two is at all prickly, it’s with big brother or sister that they’re going to practice on!

  2. Goodness, this queue is like a fire sale; how lovely. How fortunate your children are that , in addiction to all the other matriarchal duties–Mama is a talented poet. My 3 daughters & lovely wife prefer not to read my poems, even though they sometimes appear in them. Go figure.

    1. My children don’t read the poems I write about them either, unless it’s by accident. They are always very sweet about them, even when they are not the object 🙂

    1. I hope it applies to all children, last born or otherwise, who have that special attachment to their parents, like the last thread. It’s sad in a way, but they all break away in the end. We hang onto the last born longest 🙂

  3. “For you, my last born, last wish, starfall” — this one had me. We’re expecting our 3rd child, and most likely our last, in a month. Your poem somehow resonated with a deep yearning in me, and it worded such feelings more intricately than my soul could have fathomed. Thank you for that, Jane.

    1. Congratulations, Colin! A few years ago I would have said I envy you. Now I’m not so sure I’d want to start from scratch again 🙂 I think you’ll know if this is the last one. Or at least, you will probably have a restless sort of feeling if it isn’t the last. Either way, if blessings work, this fairy godmother is sending the best of everything, but most of all, gentleness.

      1. Thank you so much, fairy godmother! I’m content … nevermind our bank account screaming for us to stop being too productive.

        Gentleness … how prophetic! My wife should be most grateful for that. One thing we know for sure: the little princess has been practising powerful taekwondo maneuvers since Wk 28, literally “gut-wrenching”. lol

      2. The little demon! Each successive pregnancy makes the walls of the playground more elastic, and by the time you get to number three, it’s harder to get them to keep still. I hope the princess doesn’t do too many pirouettes when she’s supposed to be behaving herself ready to meet the world 🙂

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