MOTHER
By Peter Woodgate
And
you, your mind elsewhere,
amongst
the swirling dresses
without
a care.
On
shiny wooden floors
that
supported your team
whilst
I, a fly that needed swatting,
it was
no dream.
And we,
in those years of hardship,
suffered.
Not through
the absence of material things,
but
lack of love,
and
what that brings.
Copyright Peter
Woodgate
So you had a poor childhood, bet you made up for it raising your own? No matter how good/bad, you have nothing to compare it with except the idyll displayed in the picture above... Nicely written. I feel we are now drawing out your deepest thoughts.
ReplyDeleteHeartfelt. Hope it wasnt true for you Peter.
ReplyDeleteSuch a sad poem that I am lost for words. As seedlings need rain children need love.
ReplyDelete