My mother’s eyes look at me from her bed
Although it is Michael that she sees
A photo that he took when visiting
His Nan getting to know him by degrees
The look she gives is gentle as can be
No sharp look no criticism here
She has seen the world knows how it can be
A look of love it is for someone dear
And now she looks at me in my old age
Her silver hair swept back as soft as down
And she asks me how I’m doing at my age
Am I okay or do I wear a frown?
I too lived alone don’t you forget
Two and twenty years when your dad died
Ninety-four she was at the last
I missed him and yes sometimes I cried
Take your days and live them one by one
Stay in touch with life it’s our abode
Don’t forget to pray and ‘wipe your thone’
A mother is always a mother that’s the goad
Brian Fahy
8 November 2021
Erris Poetry 