POLKA DOT DAYS

Purple lupins, ten feet tall,

just a dream, just a wish,

beneath soft pink apple blossom,

that floats like gossamer on the faintest breeze.

Happy days, happy times,

nurturing sweet peas to clamber across

grey painted trellis, grey for effect,

worked well too.

So many sounds, touches,

emotions, today and always,

thinking of you, with your coal black curls,

cat green eyes and toffee apple smile.

Fun and laughter were your friends,

you taught them to be mine,

you showed me the beauty of the rose,

and what lies behind the thorns.

Each scarlet geranium takes me back

to the times when a little girl looked into

the rainwater tank, while you filled the can

that sometimes filled imaginary rivers.

You wore a polka dot dress tightly grasped

by a broad scarlet belt, you were my princess,

I wanted a dress like yours, to be so pretty,

just like you, my princess, my mum.

Even your shoes were scarlet leather,

cosseting dainty feet that loved to dance.

Laughter filled your life and mine,

and on the air the scent of Gingham perfume.

Gingham for week days, Tweed for Sundays,

a little bit here and a little bit there,

always my friend, always my mum

this morning, I thought I heard you calling.