In the wee small hours
In the wee small hours
at last time to myself
time to learn , to think
to try to write a poem.
My room is small
all my stuff is crammed in
but this is not my home
its the home of my brother
recently deceased
who we tried to help
and make happy
before he went....
we may have succeeded
just a little bit.
His pain is gone
and my future awaits
me and mum
a nice bungalow
doing just what we please
no nursing home for her
no not if we can help it !
My chance to give her
just a tiny amount
of the care she
nourished me with
during all my stages.
In the wee small hours
I miss my brother
but at last have
my freedom
from colleagues and bosses
who suspect or belittle
but do not understand you.
Now's the time to take time
to nurture my mum.
In the wee small hours
I live again.
