5th February 2022

clouds.
the colour of the dead pigeon
under the hedge

© Rachel Green February 2022

Mum never worked
while I was alive; and I don't know
how she would have coped
if she was the one left behind.
At least Dad had a trade
that he barely took a day off from,
chasing overtime.
I have no idea what Mum's skills were.
Dressmaker, homemaker, mother;
She worked her fingers to the bone
with no mains water
and a budget so tight
she'd walk five miles with a shopping trolley
to save thirty pence bus fare,
and I can still see the grief on her face
when Nana died.

© Rachel Green February 2022