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For my first born son Harry (who is at the moment, 15 years and almost 3 months old).
I will not apologise for loving you too much…
For not letting you go out til midnight and walk home (with your friends)
I am unashamed of waiting up for you,
Yet you scorn me and text me and turn the air blue.
I will not say sorry for squeezing you and holding you and pestering my boy,
For, after all, you almost took my life giving birth-
my most wonderful joy.
I will not beg for your forgiveness if I am not there because I am working to buy you the things that you think you need.
Trainers made by children like yourself,
Nylon football shirts that enable the rich to stay rich,
Mobile phones that cost as much as a month with a prostitute in Bangkok
No, because, I know, that one day you will see (I beg you will see)
That this world is fucked up and you will think less of “me”.
I won’t regret grounding you for your blatant audacity and rudeness and spite
After all, I did worse, and you put up a good fight.
I am your mother, I made you and carried you and sang gentle songs to you
Read books to my womb, counted heart -beats and …
breaths: from you.
I waited my life for you to show I could care for you.
You are my blessing, my everything; my heart.
My everlasting love affair with you will never part,
But I will not apologise for the choices I make.
I will not say sorry and try to be fake.
I am your mother and you, are my son.
You are my every breath…
We are still one.
Til death do us part and then still meet me,
At the fairground, near the candyfloss, as previously agreed*
Then we’ll ride on the waltzer
Til we laugh screaming and giggling and roaring with glee
Harry **** ******, my Son, my Boy and me.
*You know the score. x
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