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The pilot was a friend of mine.
He rushed to visit mother on her day.
And mother had just chilled his favourite wine
when all the doorbells rang at once to show dismay.
The plane had crashed this morning at the Herbert River
not one survivor had escaped the crocodiles
his lovely mother just ignored that sudden shiver
and started cleaning with the steamer her floor tiles.
'Yes he will be here, he would never miss this day,
in all these years he's always brought a little gift,
and after lunch we'll sit us down and act so gay..'
(while on the crashsite the inspectors start to sift) .
She had the place in an immaculate condition
and waited up until the clock announced the hour
which would ring in another day like a petition
and then the doorbell chimed, there was a single flower
brought by the constable, his face was black and teary
and then the truth was handed over with the rose
and mother thanked him for his kindness, called him 'dearie',
just for a moment you could see that mother froze.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read poems about / on: mother, flower, river, rose, truth, friend, thanks
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