“Closed doors” by Julie Cahill

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Mum, she slammed the door, she did.
‘No one’s going out!’
I scratched my head and wondered what the fuss was all about.
My mother often sent us out
so she could clean our mess.
Now our home is inside out with plonked in tardiness.
We play games we have never played
Lose pieces that are loose.
The jigsaw puzzle is in MORE bits
Soggy, with my juice.
The tv stations repeat repeats.
I turn myself away.
Good gracious, it’s as though it is
a winters’ rainy day.
But that’s okay, the storm will pass.
My mum screamed
‘really soon!’
She still believes in nonsence
like ‘the man upon the moon.’
I give that sly and sideways look
The one which she deserves.
But Mum’s a treat
When she hands out sweet
And cuddles with elbows curved.

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