Mother

Oh dear mother I love you more
Than chocolate, puppies and Christmas galore
I won’t try to lie or try to pretend
But just a touch you’re going round the bend
I know I can’t say much, look how hyper I go
Screaming like a harpy and talking to snow
Our voices so similar that when I get back
Tom can’t tell the difference, he can’t get the knack
Your teabag obsession is getting quite high
Right next to boring long books that truly defy
The laws of interesting – that even a phrase?
I hope to god that it’s just a silly phase
Your ruffled hair that you constantly cut
Listening to sad monks gurgling about luck
Or some such thing, completely strange
And saying things utterly deranged
But through it all in everyway
I’ll love and you and your habits till my dying day.

By Claudia Amarylis