Hello Poetry Lovers
Well, I’m thrilled to say I’ve got a poem into the Mother’s Union London Diocesan News.
An unlikely place for my sort of work to be, but they accepted it, and it’s the equivalent of a T S Eliot award to me.
It’s a wistful sort of piece.
Do read on;
How did you get this big?
When did I become the child?
And you the adult, studying my
Should you even be up this late?
I used to read you a bedtime story.
The roles now truly reversed and
you’re reading me a different story
Saturday nights I would come to your house,
I can still see you in your pyjamas and
Thomas the Tank slippers.
None of this will mean anything
to you now, you’re too busy chasing
paths and fulfilment.
But later on, you’ll wonder who
hugged you and put you to bed.
How much tax do I owe again?
H Moulson 2020
I hope you liked it, PL’s. A wistful, rueful looking at things passed and how quickly it all went. I recall those tender babysitting moments so clearly, barely noticing how these children grew up, and how quickly they didn’t need you anymore. No more Saturday nights….
Dobby has just dropped a large hint there, so I’d better pay attention to her every whim.
Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. Same time, same channel……
2 thoughts on “The Babysitter’s Lament”
Congratulations Heather, well observed and deserved xxx
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Bless you x
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