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Mother's Day

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The children now have flown their nest.
There's peace and quiet...and loneliness.
It's Mother's Day.

Time -- it slips away so fast.
I think about the year gone past
And Mother's Day.

Black burnt toast and greasy eggs.
Cold cups of tea drunk to the dregs.
On Mother's Day.

Children watching every bite.
Pretending everything's alright.
On Mother's Day.

Little gifts and cards, homemade.
Tears and smiles their part they played
On Mother's Day.

I have them still, for now they lie:
Within myself; in my mind's eye.
Those Mother's Days.

I think about each precious year.
I smile and shed a little tear
For Mother's Day.

I'm wwaiting; soon they will arrive.
My children; bring me alive.
It's Mother's Day.

Car doors slam. Ah, here they come
With smiles and laughter, "Hello, Mum!"
Oh HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY.

Poem by Elsie Procter

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Copyright The Bentilean 1999

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