That’s Not The End Of The World,
They Say, As They Stand Huddled In Groups,
Watching Tiny Fragments Of An Infinate Hazy Jigsaw
Fall Sharply From The Clouds
(Who Are Burting To Relieve Their Backs
Of This Aching, Heavy Burden) .
I, With My Tight, Mahogany Curls,
Cling To The Welcoming Coolness Of The Lamp Post,
Papillon Perched Gallantly On My Hand, Watching
(As He Always Does) As Mother Calls:
‘It’s Raining, Sweetness, Run Along Or You’ll Catch Your Death Out There.
I Didn’t Know What Death Was, But I Wasn’t About To
Loiter Around Long Enough To Catch It.

I Grin Cheekily As Mummy Lovingly Wipes The Raindrops
From My Nose With Her Red Spotty Handkerchief,
My Smile Proudly Displaying The Brilliant Gap Where
My Two Front Teeth Used To Live.
Mummy Trotts Off To The Kitchen To See To Dinner And Leaves
Me In The Hallway To Discard My Puddle-Splashed Clothing.

Such Beauty Concealed
Within Her Eyes
Wonderous Blues Of
Dragonflies, Reflecting
The Brightness Of The Skies
And A Smokey Grey Of A Simper
Such Beauty Has She.

Such Wisdom Contained
Within Her Eyes
Amazing Knowledge Lays Inside
And Strength Of Emotion
A Sense Of Devotion;
Selfless And Merciful.
Such Beauty Has She.