I was rushing after I locked the animals up
And knocked a plate from the bedroom wall as I was undressing for a bath.
It was just an old plate,
It had no mark on it
It had no monetary value.
Chris was in bed and looked up from his book
" was that your mother's plate?" He asked
" it was" I said simply and hurried off for my bath.
And there I cried for a very short minute or so
Mourning for a cheap plate.
When my mother died I was the one that cleared out her home.
Her style, was very different to her children's
And so most of her household items were sold off.
My sisters I think took her jewellery and photos for safekeeping
There wasn't much else of value
I took a little ginger jar with a chipped lid, a jam making pan
And a green and cream patterned plate which always hung on the wall.
The fact that I had chosen this keepsake eluded me then
And the upset , I felt at its silly destruction an hour or so ago
Surprises me now