Mum

My mum is great.

She works long hours

And takes short showers

So that she gives more than she takes.

And in the morning, when I wake,

She'll have been up since five

It's still dark but she drives-

Her tiny fingers, so fragile,

Are wrapped around the wheel

Though it's winter,

And frost has crept over the steel.

And make no mistake,

Even on her lunch break,

She will eat what remains

From a dinner she'll make,

And she'll get home in the eve,

Hang her coat and her keys,

And she's tired, so she's slow

As she walks upstairs to me.

But I'm young, and I'm dumb

And I'm only sixteen

So when she kisses my cheek,

I say things I don't mean.

But they're not words I control

When my emotions are tidal.

When I'm anxious and scared,

And my thoughts suicidal.

I think if only she knew,

But she won't understand,

So I wave her away with an ungrateful hand.

And I see this all now that I'm gone-

I'm aware.

When I get home every day,

And my mom is not there.

Now I'm older and wiser,

It's her I think of,

Because I gave my mum nothing,

And she gave all her love.