Sunday 11 March 2018

Thora Beryl Evans, My Mother

Thora Beryl Evans
30/06/1934 - 05/03/2018

My Mum is always with me.

As flour falls from my sieve, it's her hands on the handle.
I spread Marmite on toast, she's caring when I'm ill

Turning a hem, she slip stitches for me
Blood welling from my finger, her voice swearing

I mutter, "Effing cat!", it's her voice I hear

My fingers in warm compost, we share the smell
Pruning roses, she's telling me how

Sat in a sunbeam, she's next to me, mug in hand.
She's in every garden, and in every chore

I miss her, yet don't, as she never left.

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