Pretend you're alive

And all the while she but stood there,
his shoe in her hand, so small;
his hair had smelt like old milk when she kissed it
now nothing more but a fleeting memory
that she could only run after, but never recapture

He liked toy cars, plastic frames which
resisted his clumsy steps.
So he could proudly strut across a room
without landing face-down;
so what? What now when his adventures
lie with him?

A sigh as she collected the other shoe
and his little stuffed toy - she smiled
as though the corners of her mouth
could push those pesky little tears back in -
ohgod.

"Big boys don't cry" he told her,
grinning gummily upwards
"Then big girls shouldn't either" she thought
and she quietly finished her task.

A mother should never outlive her son,
a pillow to his car-crash face
a curse to the bottle in that man's hand.

But as is always the case one must carry on
"Don't mourn too much" they say
And she nods, shattering on the inside
as she plasters on that appreciated untruthful smile