Poetry

Mother’s Day

By 24th February 2008December 9th, 2019No Comments

I’m glad you’re not my Mother
I’m happy you’re my Wife
Born way back in ‘64
To join me in my life

On Mother’s Day you feel the pain
Of children all grown up
Forgetting it’s your special day
All moody and abrupt

A breakfast and a cup of tea
I’ll serve to you in bed
While all our Sons are lying in
You cannot wake the dead

I’ll pamper you on this your day
To prove that I’m no sinner
With hungry children screaming out
‘ Come on Mum, what’s for dinner ? ‘

Relax my love, ignore them all
When they begin to moan
They’ve promised that they’ll help you
When they’ve finished on the phone

‘ I’d wash the dishes Mother
But I’ve really got to dash
I’ll be back home at 5 o-clock
To have my Beans and Mash ‘

And when your work is nearly done
They enter through the door
With soggy shoes all caked in mud
And spread it on the floor

‘ A woman’s work is never done ‘
Your Mother used to say
Except upon this special day
With children in the way

But come the night, just when you think
Your children never loved you
They put some chocolates in your lap
They’ve only pinched a few !

Then just before you go to bed
A tiring day you’ve had
They look up from their X-box game
And see you looking sad

They all come, and sit around
With kisses, hugs anew
All worth it when they whisper in your ear
‘ The best Mum, we love you ‘

And when they finally marry
Have children, just a few
They’ll realise this special day
Is what their wife is due

Tom Mcgreevy

Author Tom Mcgreevy

More posts by Tom Mcgreevy

Leave a Reply