I can see her, round that corner
Standing there,
Waving as he walks away,
Kissing her before she runs off,
Feeling more than a little lost.
The silence in the house is deafening.
She is still getting used to having Time again
Up till now it was in such short supply
Oh, how she’d longed for a little Me Time
And now it feels so strange
To finish a hot cup of tea and read a magazine.
Of course the winds of change must blow
And everything will grow and age
It can’t stand still.
But very soon each new stage starts to feel comfortable
Like worn-in shoes.
And she’s used to working in a quiet house
Without endless knocking on her door.
As she walks from the gates
She makes a mental list of things to do
Before she picks her up from nursery and him from school.
She doesn’t see me.
But she knew me once –
I am her, a year before.
