by | Aug 26, 2012 | Poetry | 0 comments

My mother’s sister, Aunty Ann,
Had no children of her own.
I was my parents’ only child,
No others in the family.
Ann displayed no jealousy,
But had a special bond with me
And we were always comfortable
In each others’ company.
Their other sister, Aunty Eve,
Again, unable to conceive,
Was jealous like you’d not believe
And yet, in order to deceive
She acted like I was her own,
Showing off to everyone
And though we didn’t like each other
I played along to please my mother.
Eve was rich, my parents poorer.
In public I was showered with more
Than I could get from Dad and Mum.
In truth, Eve gave a tidy sum
To show her friends how I was blessed,
Ensuring they were all impressed.
She tried to buy me, make me grateful,
But in private she was hateful
Because I was my mother’s child
And wasn’t hers; it drove her wild.
So when I could I’d run to Ann,
My dearest Aunt, my mutual fan;
The one who unconditionally
Had love and friendship, just for me.
Eve and I fell out one day;
Inevitably, my family say.
It happened when my mother died;
Eve took over, never cried,
Unlike Ann who really cared,
With whom I knew my grief was shared.
Eve tried to dominate my life
And that of my future wife.
We had the nerve to ask for space.
Eve lost her rag and slapped my face.
She cut me off without a penny,
Not that I had wanted any.
I don’t care where her money went,
It isn’t something I resent
For I’m just pleased that Eve was taught
That true affection can’t be bought.


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