LCW

Sometimes she would laugh.
Sometimes she would cry.

    her worries
she would never
                 complicate
                           into my life.
but 
       when worries complicated mine
       she would always
                         be there with a hug
                         With a gentle voice
telling me
                 everything would be
                            all right

Sometimes 
                    she would be 
ringmaster to my sisters and my fights

Sometimes 
               she would be 
judge...whose wrong
        ...Whose right
and punishment she would then 
dish out
            with a wooden spoon 
                                  or
                                    a grounding

sometimes 
                 she would be paymaster
handing out my pocket money 
[usually on a Saturday mornings]
or lunch and bus money 
 [on the school days]

she would 
              pack me off to school
my uniforms clean
                 and neatly pressed

 upon my return
                      ink stained
                               grass stained
                                        creased and dirty
[but she would never once complain]

she would have eyes in the back of her head
always seeing 
                    tongues poked out
         or...a middle finger raised in the air

and always knew about
                          those cheeky cigarettes

then I aged
came a time to leave
schoolyards behind
and to work I set off
                            making her so proud

but also came
                      the late night weekends
a license  
            and a car
worried
            she would lay awake at nights
till my return 
         usually the late night hour
  [though she always denied in doing so]

now I`m living away from home
her mothering I need not so much 
but her teachings
                         and her lessons 
      are still a part of my life
her words of
                 what is wrong
                                      what is right
     still lingers inside my mind

she probably still lays awake 
            some nights
     worrying about my life
after all she loves me 
                     and is proud for me 
                                             to call her mum
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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