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I was unaware you
drove to Mums’ to fetch most of her belongings,
You went behind
my back to collect so many things.
You journeyed on
your own, loaded up your car with memento from so long ago,
You never once
asked me if I also wanted to go.
You now own a tin
of buttons-the ones’ that clothed our early lives.
Dads’ projector,
days out, treats and holidays, ‘photos when he was alive.
The slides of
London bridge, our skirt blew around our waists, it was so windy,
The pinking
shears I make fancy dresses for my dolls Patch and Cindy.
You’ll never know
how strong my pain, how powerful my yearnings;
Mums’ sewing
machine when we were young, bought in some extra earnings.
Our years of
childhood in those four drawers as I remember tightly crammed,
You must’ve
measure all of Mums’ wares and made
strategic plans.
You gave Ben
Dads’ harmonica, his granddad he didn’t know,
You didn’t ask if
I minded, to me this was so low.
Did Gemma get a
keepsake, a trip down memory lane?
They all live in
your house amongst all your beautiful gains.
You only shared the furniture in your house you didn’t have space,
The music you
didn’t like now in my unit all have pride of place.
You kept the best
of everything, passed on stuff you didn’t need,
You keep loads of
knick-knacks I haven’t seen, I believe for greed.
Against Mums’
will and legacy,
There is one
thing you cannot take from me.
I reminisce great
memories that our parents gave-
You can keep the
material things in your alladins’ cave.
Linda Lawrence
1st
January 1999