A dusty scrapbook

I’d been gone so long

But I was back home again

For the funeral

Forty years now passed

I had changed, the town had changed

But I still belonged

There was the old church

The park, the river of youth

There the market square

Once I was a choirboy

Always on my bicycle

Playing with my mates

No eulogies said

My mother’s friends now all gone

Her son a stranger

My back felt a tap

And the she uttered my name

“I knew you mum well”

She had a kind face

Worn by many a summer

“I’ve something for you”

After the service

She took me back to her place

“Why don’t you sit down?”

With a cup of tea

She offered a piece of cake

“Forgive me” she smiled

“She said this is yours

It’s so full of photographs

Her dusty scrapbook"