Morning did nothing to shake the cobwebs from last night’s dream.
They had decided to exhume my mother-in-law.
The piquant reminder followed me around.
My wife seemed to be in with the fallout,
cooking crepes for breakfast. Mother’s favourite.
Friday, late afternoon, I skipped work.
Sat in the park, beneath the cherry blossoms
I watched that age-old chase, boys after girls.
Wishing I could shave off a few years.
The masculine in me, feeling insecure.
She who always has to be obeyed has cast a large shadow.
I am in awe of my wife’s ability to be nothing like her late mother.
I must admit, I may have painted her darker than necessary…
© Anita Dawes 2021