The Perfect Family

I watch people, not in a crazy way,
That is to say – in the bushes, hiding away -
No, quietly, when I have a moment to spare
And I wonder about their worries and their care.
Most of the time, I think, they don't know I am there.

I wonder about them and keeps them going,

Whether they are hiding more than they're showing.

Things like that, nothing much, nothing much.
I spend a lot of time in waiting rooms, so to keep touch
With the world, I do, this. Kinda like a rabbit in a hutch.

I remember one family, quite clearly,

In Wetherspoons sitting opposite me.
They looked so perfect, like an advert on the Telly
Beautiful kids with no wires, no tubes in their belly.
Both looking happy, both looking healthy.

They laughed, they joked and they said it was great
The way that little Timmy pushed peas around his plate.
Then they’d leave, get in their new car, new mobile phone,
And drive to their clean and expensive home,
As I still sit here alone.

I sit here thinking about the lot I was given,
The many miles that I have driven
To get to hospital wards, clean sanitised hands,
Yet everyone acts like they understand
But they’re just grateful their kids are grand.

While my girl lies awake in pain
As I clumsily fumble with another chest drain.
And I wait and weep as she goes under the knife
And think to myself: “so this is her life?”
I struggle to be a mother, woman and wife.

Some nights I feel so broken
I crumble before a word is spoken.
To me it seems so unfair,
A pained angel, lying prostrate there
Sometimes I wonder if God could care.

But I snap out of this self pity
To count the blessing bestowed on me.
There is no such thing as the perfect family
But I have this hope and love to surround me
In this realisation we are safe, and, we are happy.