LOOKING through some of my memorabilia, I found some material I wrote long ago when I had pretensions to being a writer.
One item, a poem, was written after my mother’s death in 1983 soon after I graduated and began work.
I tried to capture my relationship with her, which always seemed unfair to me when all I wanted to do was play with my friends and she was always getting me to work.
However, late at night, we settled into some sort of camaraderie, when she told me tales of long ago.
I kept them in a scrapbook which was later retrieved and put on a computer and I thought this may be a good time to share.