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Monday, 26 October 2015

MOTHER’S SON


It doesn’t take much –

the sizzle of bacon frying,
a wasp squashed by a newspaper,
a dandelion,
a soft handshake,
the smell of bleach,
champ and butter,
raindrops on a window,
an ink blot,
finding coins down the back of a sofa,
tomato sandwiches,
a TV theme tune,
washing up liquid bubbles,
stewed tea,
whispering a prayer,
melting candle wax,
talcum powder,
a full moon,
the rush of a tide,
a crying baby,
good manners,
a church spire,
daffodils,
Bisto,
knitting needles,
paraffin,
Forty Shades of Green,
furniture polish,
rosary beads,
snooker -

all this and more
and I am my mother’s son again.

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