i wonder mum if you recall
that game we played when i was young,
those times i’d seat you in a chair
and ask you how you’d like your hair?
on tip-toe i would section strands
tease out the tangles ease the knots,
then twist your dampened wavy locks
round rollers with my fumbling hands
a mirror glance and you would smile
how patiently you’d play along,
a pleasing nod you’d turn to say
i rather like this back combed style
and then i’d try with steady hand
to paint the colour on your lips
apply mascara with a wand
all treasures from your bag of tricks
where do the passing years all go
for you and i wear shades of grey
my mother and my loving friend,
for when i saw you yesterday
the inner child cried out in me
i had a yen to start again
to stand there with my brush and comb
and tease the tangles from your hair