I can still see my mother squatting down by the fireplace ,
Putting some sticks over scrunched up newspaper .
She struck a match and lit the paper as smoke arose .
From the kindle a welcome warmth for us to share .
She would ask me to bring in some coal .
Then I'd go into the back yard where it was twelve below .
I remember her at the stove stirring the porridge to the boil ,
Outside winter birds left tracks in the snow .
Noticing the water pipes frozen I'd ask .
Am I going to school today ?".
My Mother would give me a smile .
Flames leapt from the coals .
The porridge was hot in the bowls .
"Yes son , she would say .
"Winter is here for a while ."
By Paul McCann
Originally Posted On Site: 2008-05-08 01:41:04
Last Login: 08.11.10
Visits as of 12-12-07: 368
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