She catches the tube for a Friday night out,
Her hair freshly blow-dried, a painted on pout,
She looks just like anyone heading to town,
But look a bit closer, you'll see a slight frown.
If you opened her bag you might find some more clues,
A crushed box of raisins, a note about shoes.
Next to her make-up a packet of wipes,
Some small bits of plastic, the bell from a trike.
She sits up and breathes, her face softens and mends,
This moment so rare now, a date with old friends.
She flicks through her phone-pics of giggles and smiles,
She looks out the window, seems lost for a while.
It's time to get off now as this is her stop,
She makes a quick call "Keep an eye on his cough",
Tonight she is her again, time to have fun,
But wherever she goes she is always a mum.
Guest Blog by the lovely Mummy Poet
Mummy Poet x