Mother’s Day

On the train

No one is reading

Everyone is on the phone

Sending important messages

Telling friends and family

They are on the train.

In the houses we pass

People are getting up

And starting their day

Planning surprise lunches

Flowers and family celebrations

It is Mother’s Day

And I think of you

Just as I do on every other day.

I’m on my way

To meet your grandson

My firstborn

Now a married man

I wish you knew.

Outside the sun is shining

It’s the kind of day

That makes everyone smile. 

I’m going to be a grandmother

I wish you knew.

 I’m on the train

Travelling between

The life I have now

And my life to come.

Everyone else is still on the phone

And I’ve written this.

Happy mother’s day mum.


Every Day is Mother’s Day

First smile, first laugh, first sweet embrace

The tender way they touch your face

Every day is mother’s day


First sit, first crawl, first tooth, first walk

The joy when they begin to talk

Every day is mother’s day 

The fun when they begin to play

The cries when they don’t get their way

Every day is mother’s day


The day they start to question why

And ask what happens when you die

Every day is mother’s day

The climbs, the falls, the hurts, the tears

As they learn to overcome their fears

Every day is mother’s day

The very first day you’re on your own

You take them to school, come home alone

Every day is mother’s day

The very first time they stay out late

And you remember your first date

Every day is mother’s day

And then one day you’re on your own

They’ve fled the nest, the kids have gone

Every day is mother’s day

The love, the joy, the guilt, the pain

The more you give, the more you gain.

You know you’d do it all again

Every day is mother’s day


Jokes abound about mothers-in-law.  I was lucky with mine.  We always got on well and she had a fabulous relationship with our children.

I wrote this poem on 11 October, 2007,  just a few days after she died.


The grass will still be green

The sky will still be blue

But something will be missing

from the world that we once knew.

The phone will still be ringing

But she won’t be on the line

Who will we tell our news to

like we used to all the time.

The parties will go on

With food and wine and kissing

But there’ll be an empty chair

The one we love is missing.

Our children will grow up

With memories they can share

The world’s the same but different

now their grandma isn’t there.

Hettie Neidle, 24 August 1917 – 5 October 2007


I wrote this next poem in 1995, about six months before my mother died.

 Role Reversal

Today, I held my mother

sobbing in my arms

Stroking her soft,  fine hair

Her chin nuzzled on my chest

And I could smell

the unforgotten fragrance

of her skin

I held her close

as I have held my children

and felt the frailty of her age

How odd and imperceptibly

the tables turn

And those that you have leaned on

lean on you

Those that you had turned to

turn to you

Now she is the child

And I am the mother

Freda Finn, 13 December 1910 – 6 March 1996

 © Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

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