by Alison Ayliffe
Home is where my Mother is
While we were growing up my Mother was a haven,
She was love, shelter, safety and protection
Who would guess that my Mother was home.
Later, home soon becomes wherever one chooses to sleep,
When I became drafted frequently to another of HM Ships and Home Bases,
I could automatically set up my new home
On a tiny ‘bed space’ in a fresh Nissan hut or WRNS establishment.
Photographs, Pictures, flowers, and colours all create a familiar touch
Of homeliness to even the barest of Barrack Blocks, or Hotel bedrooms.
Photographs of family and friends back home, bring warm feelings
And comfort when we may be insecure, frightened and apprehensive.
I have always looked forward to letters as they can be read and re-read no end
I can keep in touch with life back home.
Pigeons always fly back home
Rooks and Sparrows all fly to roost at dusk
Even the topical Elephant Hawk Moth caterpillar seeks a home to pupate in.
Stay here my brother, warmed by the fire, drinking our Horlicks
Whilst Mother reads us a story before bed.
Home was always where my Mother was.