Friday poem: 'My Mother’s Favourite Flower'
By John Glenday
This world is nothing much – it’s mostly
threadworn, tawdry stuff, of next to little use.
If only it could bring itself to give us back
a portion of the things we would have fallen
for, but always too busy living, overlooked
and missed. So many small things missed.
So many brief, important things.
It is my intention never to write about this.
From John Glenday’s collection The Golden Mean. Read another poem from the collection here.
Ahead of Mother's Day we've put together a selection of quotations in celebration of some of our favourite literary mums, from Ma to Moominmamma.
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