Adventurous summer holidays,
a time of make-believe.
When every hidey-hole was a fort
and monsters lived in trees.
Blue eyes scan my face as I open the door Familiarity fills them, She’s seen me before At her chair by the window, I sit by her side Leaning forward in whisper, She starts to confide “Do I know you?” she asks, and my heart races on “Yes, Mom, it’s me—” “I remember, my son.” I give her the flowers that I bring every week, Her favourite, I tell her The lilies… Read More