Mother of mine.

I hold onto the door frame,
The scullery a small addition
Where you cook , mangle the clothes,
And wipe steam from the windows.
I am always seeking you out,
Talking endlessly about your life,
The loss of your mother,
As a child of seven, and boarding school.
The kitchen is adjacent,
It is our space for eating
The red Formica table set out
With mats and cutlery.
In the corner a boiler for the water,
Difficult to light.
So many times, on bended knees, with a sheet of newspaper and matches
You tried.
Coal dust on your hands.
How patience you were,
My mother.
I remember your hands
Rough from soap powder and the cold.
The simple wedding band.
In the kitchen cupboard drawer
You took out a small zipped bag,
Cherry red lipstick, rouge and powder,
A quick splash to welcome
The man you loved.
Mother you were splendid .

Love Mary xxxx