You hated to walk when we went out.

To be lifted up, you would coax, cajole and then shout.

I refused to give in to your demand

As I held on tight to your hand.


Your dad would look at me and chide,

When he’d lift you up, you’d  say “Phookkat ka ride”

The triumph in your eyes I’d see,

As you gloated over your victory.


Last year when I broke my leg and needed help.

With twinkling eyes you urged me to walk by myself.

You raised your brows and tilted your head

And drove your point with words unsaid.


You were kind but very firm.

Like I was the young ‘un and you ‘my mum’.

I   knew that I had well borne my part.

For you had a sensible and a very kind heart.