Mama
They sit there in their ‘jamas
On a cold hard wooden floor
They are waiting for their mama
To come walkin through the door
Huddled ‘round a one bar heater
They struggle to keep warm
Mary’s cold does not get better
Coughing racks her little form.
Peter’s feet are turning blue
A frosty breeze blows ‘neath the door
He has no socks he has no shoes
He just shivers on the floor.
Mama said she was going out
Last night right after tea
She’ll be back they have no doubt
Don’t know how drunk she’ll be.
At ten, Christine is the oldest
She has quickly learned to cope
For her Brother and her Sister
When her mother’s high on Dope.
Sometimes at night she tries to sleep
But she’s ‘wakened by her fears
Into her bed her Uncle will creep
Her mother ignores her tears.
Front door bangs mama is home
They huddle closer on the floor
Deathly quiet as in a tomb
Two policemen walk in the door.
Their mama won’t be home today
She was arrested, drunk last night
The Police have come to take them away
Until Mama can put things right.
The children hug each other and cry
They love their mama so
She can do no wrong in their eyes
It’s the Uncles that made her go.
Christine can see from behind her tears
The Policeman to them has lied.
Deep in her heart she feels the fear
She knows last night her mama died.
Robin A Spicer © 18th July 18, 2004
Good work, Robin!
Sandie.
The poor little ones. What kind of a life will await them now. Well, probably a better one for the eldest girl.
Thanks for sharing. And thanks for visiting my site.
What a powerful write. This really chokes me up, the horrors seen all too often.
Warm hugs
Elga