CELIA'S POEMS

                                      No 89  June 14

              My first daughter was 3 months old,

              And in a carry-cot,

              My son was 16 months old,

              And always on the trot,

              We had no dryers in those days,

              All my washing on the line,

              It had just started raining,

              “Can I get to them in time”,

              My father ran his business,

              From an office across from home,

              That’s where I thought he was heading,

              My god was I so wrong.

              He only lived 4 doors away,

              I didn’t know to his car he was going,

              My son had seen his granddad,

              And ran off without me knowing,

              I threw my washing inside,

              And ran to bring him back,

              The horror of that moment,

              Nearly gave me a heart attack.

              My father was reversing,

              It all seemed so unreal,

              When you see your little boy,

              Going under the back wheel.

              I just started screaming,

              My father stopped the car at once,

              The back wheels had just missed him,

              We were both there in a trance.

              My screaming brought some neighbours,

              My son was stuck under the car,

              They managed to lift the car up,

              My son still has the scar.

              As I held him in my arms,

              No words could I have spoken,

              He’d missed the wheel by just one inch,