The pilot was a friend of mine. <br />He rushed to visit mother on her day. <br />And mother had just chilled his favourite wine <br />when all the doorbells rang at once to show dismay. <br />The plane had crashed this morning at the Herbert River <br />not one survivor had escaped the crocodiles <br />his lovely mother just ignored that sudden shiver <br />and started cleaning with the steamer her floor tiles. <br />'Yes he will be here, he would never miss this day, <br />in all these years he's always brought a little gift, <br />and after lunch we'll sit us down and act so gay..' <br />(while on the crashsite the inspectors start to sift) . <br />She had the place in an immaculate condition <br />and waited up until the clock announced the hour <br />which would ring in another day like a petition <br />and then the doorbell chimed, there was a single flower <br />brought by the constable, his face was black and teary <br />and then the truth was handed over with the rose <br />and mother thanked him for his kindness, called him 'dearie', <br />just for a moment you could see that mother froze.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mother-52/
