Mum

“Take something to remind you of her”, they suggest.
“I already have”, I say.
In the cookbooks you gave me, the marks of my cooking throughout their pages,
In the jugs and vases dotted around the house, the result of many years happy scavenging together,
In the poetry books on my shelves, purloined from yours over the years,
In the pictures on my walls, presents from you to remind me of home.
I don’t need objects to remind me of you.
But everywhere I look I can see your love.