To view a picture of the painting which inspired this poem, PLEASE CLICK HERE
When you first heard the words
“Mom, I want to paint you”
Were you flattered?
Did you wonder, “who wants to look at a painting of an old woman?”
Do you think, “I bet that young blonde turned him down again”
Was that your favourite chair?
How comfortable was it
Sitting there
For hours on end
Did you fidget?
Did your old bones ache?
How about your bladder?
Did you keep needing a wee?
Was it boring?
Staring ahead
No TV to distract you
You couldn't even pick up your knitting
Was it cold?
Or was there a fire?
Was that your normal dress?
Did you wear it all the time?
Did you once wear it at a funeral?
Was it once the fashion?
That painting next to you
Did your son paint that?
Did he hang his work up around the house?
Did you like it?
Did it brighten up the grey walls?
Did you often look at it?
Or did it become so much a part of normality that you only noticed it when wiping off the dust?
What was behind that curtain?
A window, I suppose
What did it look out on?
A garden?
A hillside?
A street with children walking by
Chattering
Or shouting, “old Ma Whistler!”
Or singing some silly rhyme
Popular at the time?
Did you think, “I'm going to be famous?”
Did you like the outcome?
Did he catch your best side?
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