I saw you for the first time on turning,
Watching this magician ascend,
Flowing through the air on stilts,
My heart a beating cabaret.

Returning, I knew this my breaking,
And the sheets contain our bones,
For then you were still in the keeping,
But now in my arms I enfold.

Love Mary ***

I use to take them,
Pocketed up against naked flesh,
Torn by hand so stem might survive,
Hidden before the park gates.

Yet there were gardens,
Along well walked streets,
Where I remembered flowering
Stalky jewel headed, against sky.

Slipped silently up the sideway,
Grabbing fists of seeded promises,
For next years storms,
And a nominated plot.

'Open Gardens', thief pickers paradise,
But a note on my garden wall
Says, 'help yourself', for we are
But a substitute for the birds.

Love Mary
Xxxxxx

The River Boy.

He fell in the river that child of mine,
On the edge was perched steady and fine,
Feeding the ducks bread from his hand,
When suddenly, splash,his feet lost land;
For a second we stared at the swirling spot,
Then instinct took over I grabbed the lot,
Out came a boy as wet as could be ,
Wrapped him in cardigans, then home for tea.

Alex fell in the River Thames at Staines when he was about 6-8 years old? Do you remember son? Love Mum **

The blue glazed, cream jug,
Stood on a kitchen shelf,
Surrounded by loves' lessons,
For hoarding and cherishing,
Both what had been found,
And what had been given.
It was the only item of any fiscal value,
Picked for its classical simplicity,
Its rich colbalt colouring,
A wedding or anniversary gift,
From an art valuing relative.
It was all that was taken
When clearing the bungalow.

Love Mary ***

Love to my dear mother and father
Who lived a life of gentle simplicity
And reflective intellect. I miss you both.
Your daughter Mary ***

Somewhere in my mind,
Was something to be found,
Not on the surface,
No digging would surround.
It came out of nowhere,
As I passed the glass,
Peering at a turquoise stone,
A golden broach it did enhance;
It was my mother's moonstone,
A family heirloom,
Embellished with gold filigree,
And attached by a chain.
The Islamic pendant,
On display at the museum,
Sent me backwards on a journey,
To discover you it seemed.

On the way home I thought of Proust,
Tasting the Madeline, tea soaked,
The pleasure it did give me,
To remember times past,
And the fingers of Mother's hand,
Gently do up the clasp.

Love Mary **

It was a yellow background,
The sort of yellow that lets the light in,
Here and there were brown rubbings from furniture,
But the overall pattern of black arabesque stalks and couplets of flowers;
A spiky pattern , rather,
Not quite nice in some way.
I expect the rolls had been a reduction at sale time,
Those January trips with dad in the rain,
Arms laden and collars tightly round faces.

I would sit by the fire tracing the design,
Making up stories in the landscape;
That yellow wallpaper was my childhood,
My father's love, my mother's comforter,
I am sitting by it now just remembering.

Love Mary **

All our Christmases.

Standing at the window when the snow falls,
Feeling the coldness seep in
As the ice builds up on the ledges
It is Christmas Day.
The street is white tracks and on hedges
Peaks gather like our festive cake.
Under the window laid out in names
Are the unopened presents.
The fur tree, tallest ever,
Lights the room with its fairy bulbs.
Robins and plastic angels twirl in the heat.
I wear my cream jumper and tartan skirt
To begin the day.

Love Mary ***

Dearest Dad ,I am sitting in my house thinking of you and how we would watch the cricket together on our small black and white television.I never really understood the rules but just liked being close.Then we would watch an old film or Western.You taught me about the famous film stars that you liked and the great singers.Mum would bring in tea and biscuits ,calling , '*****, nice cup of tea'.
I had wonderful parents, a great generation of people building a better country after the Second World War.

My father Eric, William ,Henry ,Ayton- Robinson and my mother Grace. Emily Ayton- Robinson ( née Westbrook)
You both always did your best for me and I thank you.

Love Mary xxxx

If only I stayed with my dolls
I would not be where I can't see,
They always gave me comfort
Sitting looking at me.

I remember all their faces,
Had personalities too,
Some robust and cheeky,
Others floppy and rather unwell.

At night on my bed they would sit,
Or cuddled up close in a shawl,
Blue eyes, Rosebud and Belinda,
And  a wee little baby black girl.

If only I'd stayed with my dolls,
Nothing bad would have
Befallen me,
I'd still live in imagination,
A Wonderfully, gifted world.

Love Mary **

Beauty and purpose.

In your garden I see my flowers,
Given with grace to share for a smile,
We started with roses, yarrow and thyme,
Adding poppies, géraniums and sweet dandelion;
Now it is, a herbal paradise,
Collecting fragrances pure and bright,
Healing properties grown with love,
To make people better,
Show them what's right.

To Victoria and Pieter
Love Mum ***

INSIDE THE OLD GREY SHED.

Inside the old grey shed
A path leading from the house
Flower beds and
Grassy turf
Guided each
Advancing step
In children's eyes
This was a den
A place far away from men
Dusted by the wind and rain
A window with a broken pane.

And on this day,
It was particular
A female cat had
Birthed her kittens
In the old discarded tent
Blood stained with
The afterbirth.
It was the children
Who on their visit
Found something moving
In a corner
Afraid to touch
Called their father
This day remembered ever after.

A hand open to reveal
A bundle of softest fur
Curled together in a ball
Like an angora whirl
Three kittens there within
Newness in their pinkish skin
The children held them
Side by side
Watched as their feet did dry
Opened up their floppy ears
Spoke gently so they could hear.

Of the three they kept but one
Called her Lucky just for fun.
Next door took number two
The other one went quickly too.
Mother cat was rather wild
Fought her sadness
Took a while
Never settled sad to say
Had to be put away.
Lucky our special cat
Lived 18 years on our doormat .

Love Mary **
Thank you , Lucky our black and white cat.

At the back
Sat the girl
With two brown plaits
Waiting for her
Turn to read
Something from
The Shakespeare spiel.
Worried about saying the words
Could she read them
Would she be heard
Hoped today
She'd be missed
Another chosen
Who could do this.

The years they passed
Became a mother
At last
Learnt all the medical words
And how to feed baby
Without a stir
Travelled on through
Mounting texts
Read Virginia
And her lover
The waves
And much other.
Found Iris Murdock
In a shop
Loved her books
Never could stop.

Went to college
Liked the life
Words never
Caused her any strife
Such was her need to see
The meaning
Within the sleeve.

So do not worry
When you are young
Words will come
When they belong
Captured by the reader's heart
Needed there
This world to start.

Love Mary ***

When life was simpler
Than today
We lived it in
A different way
When visiting a friend
Or someone new
Always took a posy too.

Mother would, kindly, ask
If I minded doing a task
Gathering flowers
with perfumed scent
Trailing ferns to decorate
Make a bundle of delight
As a token
Of friendship's sight.

Into our garden
I did went
With my scissors
Slightly bent
Chose from all
the pretty plants
A stem or two
From every branch
A bouquet of delicate blooms
On this sunny afternoon
Bound them up with silvered foil
A ribbon tied into a coil.

Showed my Mum
The lovely bunch
Kissed me with
A tender touch
Found a vase
To rest them in
Until the time to begin
Dressed in best
Coat and frock
With Mother ready
We did knock
What a joy it was for me
A happy face to see.

Never forget that simple life
When giving posies
Was so nice .

Love Mary xxxx