I can see them now

Mothers cutting-out scissors

sacred item

heavy in her delicate fingers

snipping at the edges of paper patterns

so flimsy and soft as the tissues she used

to wipe my little girl drippy nose in wintertime.



more than half my lifetime away

in kept memories of her

opening and closing the metal jaws steady as ever

along chalk lines of home-made designs

according to my infant sizes


each piece trimmed so accurately

hand stitched together so perfectly

and uneeding of any adjustment whatsoever


when parading each floral creation outside

among my envious playmates (as mum watched smiling from the window)


was not only a matter of wearing the dresses themselves

but also of wearing the more beautiful more meaningful albeit invisible garment

of motherly pride that I wore then and always will.  


🌷 (4)

◄ preview

a cacophony interrupts ►


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Rose Casserley

Fri 27th Oct 2017 00:03

appreciate the comments (and concerns) J.J.

Rose 💋

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Jemima Jones

Wed 25th Oct 2017 16:54

has to be up there with your best Rose. Quite a tear jerker. Thank you.Jemima,

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Rose Casserley

Wed 25th Oct 2017 12:28

your little story type comments are quite Heart-warming Ray and Raj.

How wonderful the comfort one gets in carrying on parental personal tradition's

Lozzer, thank eff there are people like you who have the sense in not wanting to adopt the schoolma'am (or master)

I suffered too much of that as a rebellious little shit on the rare occasions when I actually turned up for lessons
(now sadly regretted)

and good on you guys also, Tony, Leon and Desmond.

Rose 💋

Tony Hill

Fri 6th Oct 2017 08:48

Almost missed this one, Rose. It's lovely and no doubt written from the heart. Tony

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Thu 5th Oct 2017 19:55

title and ending both very fitting.And in between them a great poem

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Laura Taylor

Thu 5th Oct 2017 09:34

This is lovely Rose. I'm not gonna get all pedantic and point out typos, just enjoy the poem for what it is. It felt like being hugged.

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Raj Ferds

Thu 5th Oct 2017 07:20

Touching. Only the other day I found my dad's old braces, typically paisley. In one moment a hundred memories rushed past. And guess what? I've got a rather special meeting on Monday and I'm going to wear them with pride.

You can't put a price on this Rose.

Raj xx

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Wed 4th Oct 2017 19:13

Lovely verses Rose. I still use my dad's old wet razor after trying the expensive modern versions. I get comfort from the idea of using such a simple thing everyday, and your poem reflects a sense of how objects become cherished with their memories intact.


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