The School Run: A poem

With an aching sense of disconnect,
I hated you when we first met
Tear-pricked eyes caused tunnel vision
And blurred your concrete paths, ahead

Compliant I marched, accepting  fate
A resigned and grouchy, weary gait
False duty powered this Mother’s  legs
Down your cracked and dog-fouled paths ahead

Unable to keep up with you
Faces turned, just out of view
Inspite of messy, unbrushed hair
You were always cheap-shoed steps ahead

Then wind and rain came lashing down
Wet-through, my faith in you should drown
Instead, our laughing eyes connect
As cold rain sploshes down frozen heads

You race with me, to school, together
All pushchair wheels, and scuffed, black leather
Rubbing small, grazed knees, whilst you move quick
“Nearly late!”, notes the stern Head

Puddles, scooters, snails and bikes
Elastic bands,  garish, bright
I feel an aching discontent:
Where will I go when you don’t lie ahead?

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