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In the times of distress with COVID all around, I miss Patna where I lived for thirty years. I did not get any news of my mother today so that brings anxiety and with it all the memories from childhood. I cannot go to India in this time of crisis. I have my own family here in the UK alongside my work and that is my priority but I can’t help these thoughts from flooding my brain. Best is to put it to paper. This has helped me to get over the anguish of being away from my old city and my mother.


The brain is a fog, going round and round in a muddle.

I cannot think of anything else but the days that have gone by.

Those summer months with lots of cousins in a huddle.

I live each day over and over again, but I will not cry.


The photographs bring happiness with each breath.

The afternoons spent playing cards with games of twenty-nine.

The cheeky laughter of my father is still heard in the shed.

Those convincing wins of my grandmother still shine.


The rope swing on the huge mango tree

had to be enjoyed before going to school.

Those playful picnics in the gardens were carefree

and taught us the essentials of the cooking rule.


These memories are my saviour in the dark gloomy days.

These memories will always get me on the right pathways.






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