Hair

We always knew that life was going to change,

We were aware of this from quite an early age.

Mum’s hair would change regularly, every month or two,

She was like a rainbow, a human rainbow with the smile of stars.

I remember her clearly, as though it were yesterday.

To me it was yesterday, because yesterday isn’t always yesterday.

Sometimes yesterday is what we make of it,

For it is simply a day that came before today.

We used to walk the dogs, who grew older and older,

They used to run and jump and her hair was orange.

Then they began to walk slowly and her hair was brown,

Then they limped on tired legs, and her hair was greying,

We used to make fairy cake’s together; home recipe.

I used to lick the cake and icing bowls, and her hair was green.

Then the recipe fell to the pre-made box, and her hair was blonde,

Then we bought the pre-baked from the supermarket when her hair was white.

We used to sing and dance with smiles and laughter,

And for so long her hair was brightest blue.

Then we stopped dancing but still we sang, she with black hair.

The singing stopped after a while, and her hair began to fall out.

I remember the days in the library reading to each other,

Oh, and her hair was a fantastic purple unlike any I’d ever seen.

Then we read our own books, and I knew she had a dye job,

It wasn’t long till her hair was all gone and I read at her bedside.

I remember my mum as though it were yesterday,

For her life was yesterday to me, it was our yesterday.

I still remember our last yesterday, sitting in her hospital room,

Her face pale and drawn against stark white pillow.

I took her hand yesterday because I knew I needed to.

She smiled at me with lips chapped and bleeding.

I told her I loved her, and she said she loved me too,

And she would never forget the dogs, the cakes, the books or the singing.

In my today I’m told she is gone and nothing can change it.

I’m told to move on and that it’s an old story, her story.

It’s not her story though, it’s mine too; it’s ours.

I’m on one page see, and she’s waiting for me on the other,

And when it’s my tomorrow I know it’ll be spent with her again,

And we’ll be holding hands again, and her hair will be the Rainbow again.