How many times?
Have I called Mummy.
A word I use often.
It’s value is love.
That kid’s voice I hear.
Always in my head.
However grownup I am.
It’s that kid calling Mummy.
A word so comforting.
Mum, can I ….
She always answers.
A word I take for granted.
The kid that whines for Mummy.
Runs to Mummy when frightened.
Wants to be cuddled often.
Arms stretched out, carry me.
Then comes Mother’s day.
The kid emerges in defiance.
The adult weepy and afraid.
Is that guilt I feel?
Have I shown Mum each day?
I love her, I care for her.
And not just on Mother’s day.
Yet, that day is extra special.
That special day is today.
Mummy will get flowers.
With wishes and love.
Mum… it’s nothing lavish.
By C.E. Pereira
(8-5-2016)
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