18 Mar 2012


It's the stuff we don't say.
The pauses.
The squeeze of the arm.
The small hand finding the big one.
The half-hug.

Not many of us say 'it' to our Mums.
We dutifully phone them every week.
We remember their birthdays.
We care about them - but we don't actually tell them.
It's just something of a given.
A glue that holds the world together.

But today we come out with it.
We tell our Mum how good she is.
We say 'I love you' without putting on a comedy accent.

It's the day of crinkly petrol station flowers, and last minute phone calls.

Homemade cards, chocolates and luke-warm tea from six year olds.
It's the day we tell her that we care. 
That we know how much she's done for us.
And that she can finish our sentences - just this once.

But when this is all over.
When the Sunday becomes the Monday.
When the carnations droop and only coffee creams remain.
Our mums will still be there.
Waiting. Listening. Helping.
With hands that hold it all together.

Shouldn't every day be Mother's Day?

- Author Unknown.


anilkurup said...

When I began reading, I formed the comment in mind and then,there it was in your last sentence, what I wanted to comment!!

naida said...

I like this poem, very sweet!

R. Ramesh said...

Shouldn't every day be Mother's Day? abssolutely...dear tracy...if only every day is made affection day, imagine this world..ooofff

Kelly said...

It's a very nice poem, Tracy.

Alexia561 said...

Lovely poem, and oh so true! Where would any of us be without our Moms?

I've been taking a short, unintentional break and my life suddenly became quite hectic, but hoping to jump back into the blogosphere soon! Thanks for checking in, my friend! :)

Jenners said...

I definitely agree with that last question!

P.N. Subramanian said...

Some how I am not able to reconcile with the idea of earmarking a particular day of life when it comes to relationships.