She was resourceful, my mother, <br />she'd been an old grey mare* after all <br />during the second world war. <br />'You'd need a face like horse ' <br />she used to say, <br />'not to find someone.' <br /> <br />After the war, when the magpies dived <br />during the Spring, she found <br />an old pith helmet to cover her head <br />as she braved the washing line. <br />'I'm not sure where it came from. <br />It was probably your father's.' <br /> <br />My mother was the best prompter <br />in Warrandyte. 'Never fear, Niddie's here' <br />I found written on a card from the cast <br />of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' <br />thanking her for all her loud whisperings <br />from the prompt corner. <br /> <br />When she was old and bed-ridden, <br />she came to live with us. She dozed <br />a lot, and listened to 3LO on the radio. <br />'You know darling, ' she used to say <br />'However awful things get <br />There's always tea and bed'. <br /> <br />She had shelves and shelves of detective stories, <br />which she read and re-read daily. <br />'I've usually forgotten who did it, <br />but the stories are pleasantly familiar.' <br />She died on her birthday, June 28 <br />with Agatha Christie beside her on the pillow. <br /> <br />A poem for my mother, Enid Mary Bird 1905-1993 <br /> <br />*This was the term used to describe the Australian Army Nurses during the Second World War.<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-old-grey-mare/
