MIMOSAS

© 2013 Madelaine Nerson Mac Namara,

(Moving House)

July, school over for ever

and we're moving house.

The sixth storey we leave

combines the grandiose views

of the Mont Valérien

beyond the Bois de Boulogne

with the sweeping searchlight

that tops the Eiffel Tower.

Mother's dream has come true.

On a tour, in her twenties

she had fallen in love

with the town of Menton

where pink and white laurels

lemon and orange trees line streets

where the Alps balustrade a border

among palms and olives.

City bred, my father turns

passionate gardener, amazed

by his own green fingers

the nine an old war has left him.  

He plants small mimosas

against a sea background.

In two years their shade

at midday is taller than me.

Autumn term in college

two hundred miles away

my dreams sniff the fragrance

of fluffy golden spheres.

But Mother claims her view

and he fells my totems.

The only thing ever

I've had to forgive them!