The Memory

Mother, I thought of you this morning
out walking in Fendalton
where all the well-to-do gardens
spill their rich joy along the sidewalk.

And I pictured you inside
your family house, safe by your
father's side, a young child,
all set for Saturday's 'big test'.

And as I sat down by the Avon
I thought I could sense your father's
hands, reaching through the tips

of the willow trees and searching
numbly for a little boy left chasing
his rugby ball in the morning breeze.

Poem © Mark Pirie, 2003