Mum

You taught me to cook. Scarcely tall enough

to peek over the rim of the pan, I pushed back

a setting flap of omelette, copying you, 

and watched the mixture flow and fill the gap.

A toddler with his mother to himself,

(two older brothers off at school), enjoyed

songs and stories, sewing shirts for teddy,

and polishing brass with pungent Brasso wads.

You were the hub round which we turned,

the sun that warmed our orbiting lives. 

Welcomed home with oblong chocolate cake,

our bruises soothed, our stories listened to,

we never knew that not all homes are warm;

that children sometimes cry for lack of love,

or wither from neglect or cruelty; for us

home was safe haven, comfort, fun; was you.

Daughters-in-law became daughters –

welcomed: yet more family to love.

Grandchildren were cuddled, walked to school,

their cherished photos sprouting on your walls. 

Your family spread out around the world:

mere geographic distance couldn't break

the ties that happily bound us back to you. 

You gave us all. Above all, taught us joy.