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The Building Bricks

Writer's picture: Mary HutchisonMary Hutchison

She was born in the midst of a rocky marriage;

no horse and carriage, but a Russian Lada

to take her home. She fed and slept well,

preferring to to be wrapped and laid in her cradle

Her older sister, a tender two years, a little lady,

realised her worst fears, when she saw the new baby;

the building bricks were no substitute for this little

creature who was taking up all of her mummy’s time.

The summer was long and hot, walks in the park;

the nights were even longer as he decided it was okay

to wander as if he was a single man, staying out as long as he can.

Time enough for being dubbed up when she’s back at work.

Time flies by; working, sleeping, and fighting;

mum wonders how this has happened.

The dreams, new house, not a home

and she wishes somehow he’d be gone.

Poor wee mite, wanting daddy back

because she doesn’t remember the fights

and the late nights, mum sits all alone.

Those were the days before mobile phones

She’s all grown up; she realises

it’s not so simple in a marriage.

She knows she’s loved by both of them;

if only she had known that then.



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