Who are you mother?

Your body the vessel for life
Never again will you wear a bikini
Tots, teens and tantrums
Pacifiers, potties and puberty
And sleep, perchance to sleep
Twenty-one years later
You will still snap awake at the creak of a door

When they’re young at heart
And they fall and skin their knee
You can put a plaster over it
When they get older
And things go wrong
You can’t put a plaster over it
You just have to give them a cuddle
And say things are going to be alright

Your selfless mothering instincts
Disappear down the back of the couch
With the broken biscuits
Now you’re on the settee laughing with them – occasionally
While you watch the wearing of unsuitable fashions
Tight frocks, short skirts, absurd flares

You’re the one they waved to from the school bus – sometimes
Giving them freedom to fly wherever
Never saying I told you so
Allowing dependence but giving independence
Mothering not smothering
You will never matter to yourself as much again
You are lost, you are found, you are here

Brora Creative Writing Group
Katie, Anne, Shirley and Lynne