Five Years old, ugly and shy.
I saw you letting go and I cried.

Mummy! Mummy!  Please don’t go.
Will you come back?  I don’t know.

Mummy! Mummy! Do you care?
Please, please stay. I want you near.

She looked me in my eyes and said,
“Don’t call me that.  Call me by my name.

It’s Marcia.  Give it a try”.
That’s the last day I saw her…

Until sixteen years later, one day in late July.