Watching Mother Poem by Terry Collett

Your mother is peeling apples
for the apple pie

and you stand watching her
and say can I have some peelings?

Sure she says
it’s probably the best part anyway

and you notice she has tears in her eyes
and wonder if the old man

has had a go at her again
like that time over the camera

and her saying jokingly
you look like some tourist

in upstate New York
and he thumped her one

and her lip bled
and you stood watching

keeping your mouth shut
but wanting to go at him

but you being too small
stood still

and as she peels the apples
you watch her hands

go over the apples
with a skill of years of experience

and you watch as the tears
run down the side of her nose

and fall like raindrops
on to her busy hands

and you focus like some artist
at the way that they land.