Every Mother’s Son.

You used to put me on a train

departing New Street Station,

headlong through the day to Plymouth’s safe harbour.

I was safe

because I had you fighting my young battles with me,

and whilst I was not always appreciative

at the time, I never

forgot, I never allowed myself to fail

in your eyes and fought longer and harder

than I should have, just to never see

you disappointed in me.

It didn’t always work,


I dishonoured your memory, sometimes I let you down

and that hurts, knowing that the fall was always followed

by the building up of character,

that you would not allow me to sink

further, that the mistake,

honest, the act of stupidity, the act

of rebelliousness before teenage

years taught me different;

all this was because you and the millions like

would not allow boys

like me to not be

anything but

every Mother’s Son.


Ian D. Hall 2017