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Through cloudless skies of azure over land of pastel hue.
bringing forth my heart to flutter and my speech again ‘true blue’.
So pleased to touch my land again when stepping off the plane,
and better still the old hometown, alighting from the train.

There’s old familiar childhood that I’ve lost for twenty years.
Near strangled by my Mother; then near drowned by her tears.
While Dad stood proudly waiting, I s’pose he could understand.
When Mother finally let me go, we shook each other’s hand.

They made me feel like royalty, Mum couldn’t hide her joy,
with question after question (for I’m still her ‘little’ boy)
Dad acted as a waiter like he’d never done before.
Five times we raised our glasses’, before I said “No more!”

I asked about my old mates, and if they still lived in town.
Mum grinned ‘done well’, ‘gone west’, divorced or ‘silly bound!’
We’d laugh about old memories until we nearly cried,
of course there was the sadness for the couple who have died.

Mum’s home cooked meal was ‘manna’, and soon remembered most,
though it was Tuesday evening, this is the Sunday roast,
home made ‘mint sauce’ and mustard, milk warm from the cow,
stewed fruit with separated cream that I never can buy now.

Mum spoke her inner feelings and whispering she’d say,
what is the gossip of the past, that little mattered anyway.
But Dad was Dad, he hasn’t changed, his face had altered though.
I skimmed across the surface with what they only need to know.

The ticklish subjects came to light, ‘how are the kids of course?’
Am I coping on my own since I finally got divorced?
Placing ‘yes’ where it’s appropriate, and ‘no’s’ don’t go amiss,
Mothers see their sons as angels. There’s no need to alter this.

It wasn’t late but late enough, sleep is needed by us all.
My single bed was waiting there. Heroes still adorn the wall.
Dad spoke subdued as he stood up. I’m sure I saw a tear,
“Son don’t wait another twenty years. Next time we won’t be here.”
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