Summary
Walking upstairs I saw your clothes Scattered on the floor The unmade bed The messy room I wanted to shout But I couldn't As not long from now I will walk upstairs And the floor will be bare The clothes won't be there The bed will be empty The room will be still Because My precious daughter You are going away To begin your own life To grow you own wings Discover new things Without me by your side I will miss those clothes The messy room The unmade bed But above all I will miss you My daughter And my friend.
A Rubaiyat for Vida Bunting By Stuart Bunting, of Chaddesden My mother rising at the break of day Not even a second for her to play The whirring sound of her sewing machine She's curtains to finish without delay Sewing pins scattered all over the floor The dog waiting patiently at the door Thread and needles spread about the table People phoning wanting her to make more Opera singer in her younger days Performances earning critical praise Losing the chance of gaining fame Instead with three children for her to raise Her broken marriage meant money was short With so many clothes and food to be bought Carefully juggling the bills and the coins The cheapest bargains always being sought Her mother died when mum was just thirteen But it didn't make her bitter or mean A life story that deserves to be told A more caring mother there's never been.See the full content of this document
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