I have an image in my head, <br />It's of my mother <br />in an old pinny, <br />her hard, broad hands <br />that were soft and plump on the palm, <br />with cigarette yellow <br />at the fingertips. <br /> <br />I have this image in my head <br />It's of her with a washing board, <br />sighing, tired <br />and me, small and tubby, <br />taking mini steps <br />towards the wringer, <br />'can I do it mummy, can I do it' <br /> <br />I have this image in my head <br />of her face, all lit up, <br />her excitement <br />at her first ‘twin tub' <br />and my heart aches for her. <br />I see her poor, over worked body, <br />her anguished face and I cry for her. <br /> <br />I have this image in my head <br />and it never fades. <br />I wish she'd had a better life, <br />taken more care of herself. <br />She had this matter of fact attitude, <br />resololute, never to give in <br />and at the end, when all was done <br />there was nothing left but pain.<br /><br />Ruth Walters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/images-36/
