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Bonzer Words!: Memory Of Mother Shelling Peas

Frank Dawson's poem brims with unstated affection as he conjours up a picture of his mother, engaged upon a simple chore.

Frank has written for Bonzer! magazine. For more good reading visit www.bonzer.org.au

I see her now
mother sitting on the doorstep
shelling peas.
They fill a large pail cradled in her lap
peas I had picked that afternoon.
Had I picked them willingly,
or had I rebelled,
keeping my resentment inside?
No, I don't think
there was any feeling either way.
I have other memories of mother,
but in none of them could there be the tenderness
as she snapped the pods
the peas falling plump and green in the pan.
Whistler may have had his memory
of his mother in her rocking chair,
but I have my memory
of mother shelling peas.


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