Mother

Hold on to the pram and walk next to Mummy,
So the early memory goes,
Look up to see you and know that you’re there,
So the early memory goes,
The alleyway echoes with an earthy grey fog, and you
A colourful glow.
Not given, nor seen, but from within the child,
As only the child can know.
From then until now and ever, my Mother,
Beholden to you, am I,
For you loved and you cherished and I grew up,
A man, a son, thereby.

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