Christmas Past

Madonna With the Milk Soup, 1510, Gerard David 

He remembers her;

she all proud and plump and pinafore(d),

she mythering and a-muttering

as porridge splattering and a-spluttering

simmers (like her temper) on the stove.

He watches from the door,

mouth drooling and tongue a-lolling

for the toast she is a-buttering,

nothing else mattering

but the grumble in his belly.

The kids are on the floor

pulling paper off their prezzies,

sucking satsumas found in stockings,

delirious with delight as *Magoo

(in black and white)

finds his way onto the telly.

This was the time! 

The beginning of The Day! 

He remembers her, he remembers then.  

And then she went away.

She ran off with anyone who’d take her,

tinker tailor butcher baker

and finally met her maker in the year of ’84. 

The kids are big shots in the city,

(who conveniently forgot him)

who selfish and rich rotten
never set a foot across his door.

So this day he sits alone

but by crikey he still misses her

and in these Christmas dreams he kisses her,

she all proud and plump and pinafore(d)

(in his dreams his toast she’s a-buttering)

and he hears himself a-muttering;

she’s the one that I adored.

Awww!

Anna :o]

With thanks to Tess at The Mag for the inspiration – the Milk Soup (porridge) bit – not necessarily the image; also shared with the good folks at Poets United - thanks Mary.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all; have both – or else!

When I was a lass an essential part of Christmas was Mr Magoo - watch below and treat yourself!