A Poem she will never read

There will be times I will feel the need to write about my daughter.

This blog( in general)  will not be sad, in fact I am determined to keep it happy and jolly… though if I feel strongly about something, you will all know!!

I am blessed with 2 beautiful daughters. A 7 year old and a 17 year old (yup feeling old). My 17 year old has not lived with me for 10 years.  Over the years I have been made to feel (probably unintentionally ) that I should be “grateful” for the time I get to be with her, that I should not complain when I do not have enough time with her, that I should just smile and say no problem when I am given instructions on how to be with her.

My hope is to reach out to other “Mothers apart” and let them know they are not alone.

Poems are my way of expressing myself, so here’s one I made earlier… 

( Advert Break:::: I am available for little or no fee to write poems for any occasion, Weddings, Bar-Bat Mitzvah, Sheva Brochot, Christenings, Funerals, Wake’s, etc)


The train rumbles, as it leaves the station

Trying to calm my steadily increasing frustration

The whistle sounds, a forlorn call

I wish I could curl in to a foetal ball


The brakes hiss, and screech like they protest in pain

Trying to keep my mind sane.


Whizzing past stations to fast to keep track

A part of me wants to turn back

Heading toward someone who is  a part of my being

So why do I in pain feel like keeling


Pretending this is just how it should be

A trip once every three months for me to see

O I smile and you will see my mask

To keep it pasted on is truly a task


Be grateful is the message they sublimely send my way

You are getting this much is what they really want to say

Really? For sure? Do you know what you are implying?

My anger raises up before once again subsiding.


To them it is a trip, that we once in a while do make

To them it is just a trip for goodness sake.


For me, as those train tracks screech in protest under

I peer at the sky, why does it always look like thunder?

Taking me to her, as if a civil occasion

Pasting a smile, through me there is a sadness invasion


The same routine every single time,

Acting as if this is just oh so fine

A meal out, her watching just in case

A friend of hers may see her, constant worry on her face.


Talking as if we are all good mates

But look, is this really going to be our fate?

An awkward hug after a measly two hours

Oh how I wish I had turning back time powers


Speak to you on the phone tomorrow I hope

My heart breaking but having to cope,

Sure mummy she says with a wide smile,

Whilst running to the house to her  “mother” all the while.




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