Milk
Your custom often
when the house was still
to brew milky coffee
and reminisce.
Child care experts would have frowned
on my late hours,
The bitter adult drinks
and frothy confidences.
yet your stories stopped my mewling
and continued as I grew
me tending the fire,
you talking of Ireland.
more real to your first born
than the younger ones who slept.
Those nightcaps, Mother,
were our hushed bond.
And though, for twenty years now,
I’ve drunk my coffee black,
I’m not weaned yet
of that rich, warm milk.
About this poem
This poem was reproduced on a postcard for National Poetry Day 2004. Eight poetry postcards are published each year by the Scottish Poetry Library to celebrate National Poetry Day and are distributed throughout Scotland to schools, libraries and other venues. The theme for 2004 was food. You can find out more about National Poetry Day in our National Poetry Day pages, where you'll also find resources to go with the poems.
