‘You can only have one Mother
Patient kind and true
No other friend in all the world
Will be the same to you’.
Remember the verse?
Who wrote it? Who knows?
It pleased Mum – kind of.
I was ten, sis was eight
We rowed on Mother’s Day
Went to church
Sis and I
Collected bookmarks with violets
Took them to Mum
But we failed to do something
I don’t remember what
I remember her shouting …
And we went up the shop
We found the small book-shaped vase
With the inscription above
With the last of our pocket money
We bought it with love
She felt guilty for shouting …
We didn’t get it for that.
Polly Robinson © 2012
