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The Flat

These rooms are  cleaner, tidier now,

Shorn of their clutter, anyhow.

 Mum’s flat echoes, to my heavy tread,

as I pace to the beat of an empty drum,

gathering mem’ries of my dear old mum.

I lean across her dining table,

To eat some food, where she last fed.

 

Her chair is empty, but still bears the scars,

The detritus of her toast and jam.

faint vestiges of mum’s cups of tea,

old slops and stains, she could not see.

 

Net curtains, faded, where her sun had shone,

Her flat still functions, but my mum has gone.

 

◄ The A64 Blues

At Water's Edge ►

Comments

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Ruth O'Reilly

Sat 18th Mar 2023 23:28

Beautifully written and wonderfully performed for our Mother's day radio show -It's John's 📻 star for Allfm birthday tomorrow folks!

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John Botterill

Tue 7th Mar 2023 22:03

Thanks so much everyone for your likes and comments. It means a great deal to me. Sorry i have been AWOL for a while.
I want to reassure people that mum is still with us. She's is in a care home, very happy, and living her best life. 😄
It's just the flat that is looking a bit sad!😞

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Stephen Gospage

Tue 7th Mar 2023 16:57

There is something overwhelming about entering the empty house or flat, John, however familiar it was, when the person who lived there has gone. A very moving poem.

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Tom

Tue 7th Mar 2023 16:49

Beautiful!

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Hélène

Tue 7th Mar 2023 13:05

So poignant. Loved reading this.

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Stephen Atkinson

Tue 7th Mar 2023 11:51

Beautifully written, John 🌈

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keith jeffries

Tue 7th Mar 2023 10:03

A poetic tribute to someone much loved in a language we can all relate to.
Thank you for this
Keith

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