Lulu and Pinky back when Lulu still liked Pinky. |
“That’s not a skirt, it’s a handkerchief and
that top you’re wearing is beyond belief!”
yelped Pinky as her daughter walked off,
tossing her hair and turning to scoff
at an out-dated mother she’d grown to hate.
“Don’t worry Mum I won’t be late.
Don’t wait up, I’m sixteen now!
… she’ll be asleep by ten, the stupid cow…,”
muttered the daughter so Mum wouldn’t hear.
Through the blinds did Pinky peer
to catch a glimpse of her baby daughter,
climbing into a car with someone who oughta
not have a licence by the look of their parking.
They hit the wheelie bin and the dogs are barking.
Off they drive down the empty street.
Pinky sighs and picks from her feet
the bindis she stood on as she ran outside,
to wave goodbye to her oh so snide
daughter who’s got better fish to fry,
than her stupid mother with the tears in her eyes.
Pinky goes back, sits with a wine
and picks up an album from a happier time
when her daughter was two and cuddling her Mummy.
… Six months old and suckling a dummy.
Her first day of school with the cheeky grin…
and the cross country race Pinky knew she’d win.
Why have things changed over the years?
Now she only wants to mix with her peers,
thought Pinky, wiping a tear from the page.
Maybe it’s me? Maybe it’s her age?
Pinky dials the phone with depressed emotion
and calls her own Mum in familial devotion.
“What’s happening Mum?” she cries to the grand dame.
Who wisely replies, “Don’t worry Pinky… you were exactly the same.
Teenage years never go without a hitch,
Believe me Pinky, you were a right little b#tch."