What did I know?
Even on weekends my mother got up
to prepare breakfast,
as she did every day,
lunch and dinner too
making certain that we got up
in time for church,
were dressed in our best clothes,
with shining shoes.
The big old white house was a haven,
a place where we loved to be
and she baked cookies, made ginger beer
during the summer holidays
and everything came so naturally
as if life was destined to be like this
and what did I know
about the harsh sacrifices
that love demands,
the austerity with which she had to live
to send us to a private school,
to buy birthday gifts
like bicycles, watches
and whatever she deemed fit.
poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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