Debby

It’s around this time, my mother comes, always with a different sigh, asks why no one 'fones, no matter what they’ve done, would it cut their throats, a fertile ring of chimes, takes account of being glum, she enjoys family crises, never arrives alone, wants to have some fun, brings some beat or showman, it’s me who has to shine, pleading c’mon mum, nerves before a climb, it nourishes her bones, to beat the little drum, upset is all she knows, cruel to be kind, she won't waste a crumb, a forever moaning child,' now she's gone ?