Stolen Years

[Zondrae]

I have had a look back and can't see where I have posted "Stolen Years" before... . So, being Mother's Day here it is.

Stolen Years.
© Zondrae King (Corrimal) 01/08

I stand before this mirror and it’s something strange to see
for I don’t recognise the face that’s looking back at me.
It should be my reflection there or so we’re always told,
but I am not that wrinkled, not that grey and not that old.
Inside I feel I’m just the same, still seventeen, you see.
If I am that lined stranger there, who stole those years from me?

Was it a band of pilferers who crept into my flat
and stole from me my middle years. Ah, yes it must be that.
I do recall that several nights, when babies needed me
I didn’t sleep but sat all night with infant on my knee.
But that was just some nights I lost. I nursed you through your fears.
How come it is I find that I am missing sev’ral years.

I well remember hours spent, so still, beside your bed
caressing every precious curl that nestled on your head.
The time I gave up walking with you to and from your school
first one, then two, then three of you, ‘child safety’ was the rule.
But that was just a moment here, an hour there, a day
it didn’t really feel like years. How did they slip away?

As time moved on, on Saturday, when I took kids to sport
I’d think of things I’d like to do, but days were just too short.
In sun or rain or freezing wind, just watching you compete.
Then win or lose, some loving words to make the day complete.
They weren’t years that I spent then, just half of Saturday.
So where are all the stolen years? Who whisked them all away.

At night, I’d lie awake in bed, through teenage years and more
and wait for you to slip your key so softly in the door.
Then worrying as you grew up and helping with your quest,
career paths to shape your life, which calling fitted best.
You stood there in your wedding gown and I stood by your side.
To me, you were my little girl and not his blushing bride.

It feels like yesterday, I filled my final teenage year.
What happened to my twenties? When did thirties disappear?
I still remember golden years and now I’m into grey.
But where are all the stolen years I’ve lost along the way.
I think they’re wrapped in memories and stored within my heart
to resurrect in quiet times or when we are apart.

Then I will smile remembering the joy you gave to me
when still a babe and feeding, nestled safely on my knee.
To once again be holding fast a chubby little hand
and then let go as off you walk. (Mothers will understand)
So where are all the stolen years, the years ‘tween now and then?
Were they surrendered wisely? Where did they go, - and when?

I’m older now. My hair is grey. My life is soon complete.
Today I find it’s grandchildren who play around my feet.
and when they ask me “Grandma, what did you do with your life?”
I’ll tell them proudly, that I was a mother and a wife.
The years I can’t account for were so fast and full, it’s true.
I’ll say to them “the stolen years have been passed on to you.”

[Maureen K Clifford]

Have read it before somewhere - loved it then - love it now. Your life has been blessed in many ways and I am sure your kids deeply value every one of those stolen years you have bestowed upon them.


Have a very happy Mothers Day Zondrae

Cheers

Maureen

[Neville Briggs]

Good one Zondrae. You should have sent that to one of the papers or magazines , I think they would have put that in for Mothers' Day.

[Heather]

A lovely read for Mothers' Day Zondrae. Thanks. The time goes all too quickly and before you know it they aren't your babies any more. I have a friend with a two year old whom I adore - it's lovely to be able to share her. I've had to remember nursery rhymes and "this little piggy" and "round and round the garden" and it has been a delight for me.

I wish they didn't have to grow up. Having said that, my eldest daughter has just given me a lovely Mother's Day gift of perfume and souffle. Souffle for goodness sake, what will they think of next!

Heather

[Bob Pacey]

Gad flamin women give them the vote and then they want to world.


Gotta know who your mother was before you can celebrate mothers day !!!!

What's a souffle a cushion ?


Bob

[Heather]

Apparently it is a fancy word for hand cream Bob. A rose by any other name....

Heather

[Bob Pacey]

My dictionary says " A spongy dish made light with beaten white of egg " ?

Not gonna put that on my face.

Bob

[Zondrae]

oh you should Bob,,

Egg white facials do wonders for smoothing out wrinkles. So they used to say. It was one they used in my mothers girlhood.
The white went on the face and the yolk went on the hair. remembering they didn't have conditioner in those days.

[Terry]

G/day Zondrae,
Must be a faulty batch of mirrors, I'm having the same trouble with mine. This White haired bearded and wrinkled bloke keeps staring back at me, and he looks a lot older than me as well.

Nice poem Zondrae.

Terry

[Zondrae]

G'day Terry,

I have a poem called 'The Reflection'. It is about catching sight of yourself in a shop window and not knowing it's you. I lose track of which poems I have posted. It is called 'The Reflection'. I have recited it at a few festivals and it raises a slight chuckle. I have had people come up and say they can relate to, not only the stranger in the mirror but also the 'blood hound disguise' and the 'flabby arms'.

Thanks for taking the time to reply. When are you off next?