Car CrashA Poem by Chris Shaw(when it isn't possible to juggle anymore and yet ...)
Most days I long for my Mum.
How can that be when I'm as busy as a working bee, flitting about for my own family, taking care of all their needs? While she is five counties to the West, sitting in the same blue chair in her nursing home of three years staring blankly at four walls locked inside her wandering thoughts. I am caught in the headlights between a cliff edge and a brick s**t house that's a tough place to be permanently. I visit when I can, take turns with two sisters. Though in reality my guts are twisted my heart torn by guilt and my home full to the brim with others. In any case I couldn't give her the level of care she requires. Some days I can't even pick up the phone because I fear hearing her cry out or her distant voice moaning continually about the food or she becomes rude in her new self which is alien to me. Yes, some days I pick up the receiver and before I have fully dialled, my smile is erased, snuffed out as back it goes into its cradle. Then I curse myself for not being able to carry out a simple task, asking myself why can't I do better. Then out comes pen, paper and stamps while I compose her a letter. I love my Mum.
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Added on September 11, 2019Last Updated on September 11, 2019 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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