Here, I meet <br />my mother <br /> <br />before she has <br />even thought of me. <br /> <br />Here, she <br />a turning <br />twenty something or other <br /> <br />& I only <br />the long longed for <br /> <br />the sly shy twinkle <br />in her eye. <br /> <br />And now I am <br />her little boy <br /> <br />playing with photographs <br />scattered across sunshine <br />linoleum. <br /> <br />Here now, I <br />a twenty something or other <br /> <br />& here <br />I am <br /> <br />older <br /> <br />than she <br />was then <br /> <br />meeting my mother <br />in the spilt photographs <br /> <br />that scatter time <br />across this Autumn floor.<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/meeting-my-mother/
