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Date Posted: 12:28:11 07/30/02 Tue
Author: Highlander
Author Host/IP: pD9037E0B.dip.t-dialin.net / 217.3.126.11
Subject: Mums Toast

Slurping soggy coco pops in the lighted corner giggling at cartoons
I am oblivious to the bills that pop through the front door
cushioned by the worn carpet weighing down the kitchen table
as Mum escapes out the back one

I have no need for a haircut
my survival kit a pencil crayon,
a soap dish and anything from my favourite colour
keeps me company in the trenches filled with jagged nettle
I was born not knitted like my teddy in brown
so I am bound to make mistakes if I move
and not like him lay still

the slide at the plaground is not nearly glazed or fast enough but at least it gives me height
to see my house from a distance
it looks so close but still far away
how can it be I still can smell Mums toast
and familiar soup from another world
and feel the blows from one of my so called uncles
as a giant fist lands hard on her cheek
I am still nerved by crashing glass
and jump even when the waiter at our local restaurant looses grip of pastella

I am moved by shades of light green and insect yellow in summer
it reminds me of the rich children in the country and the smell of posh jam
stirs my nostrils and even at my age concern
I still sniff the air like a curious pup
when bramble bushes bare fruit profits

Mum has passed a long time ago
a single mother no more than 60 kg
barely touched 23
beautiful, hazel eyes like mine
and a smile to die for

which literally speaking she did!

I never understood life
never will
and that is why I stand here at Mums grave
watering the willows
and isnīt it funny

how I can still smell Mums toast.




Written and dedicated to a little girl who got caught up in the murky drug hell, losing her addict Father and her Mother shortly afterwards from raining blows of one of her boyfriends, it is not a poem but a mere few sentences that I put down as the little girl (now a teenager) has lots of courage but no writing skills.

I have limited writing skills myself but how could I say no to this young brave lady.

A sad world indeed and whenever I feel tired or exhausted from lifeīs schedules I just have to call this little friend, she reminds me of how small we really are.

Thanks for listening
Highlander

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