Dancing in the kitchen

Mama, I remember
gripping your thumbs,
carefully,
as we go,
side to side,
step by step,
tile by tile,
note by note,
you start to sing;
'No dancing in the kitchen!
No! We're not
dancing in the kitchen!'

You picked me up &
twirled us both round,
held me close,
as I pulled your hair
& patted your mouth,
you told me this,
is one of the things which
you truley wish
I never will grow out of.

Years later, when I neeeded you,
I pulled you back into my life,
& you let me back into you heart
& come live in your new home.
I threw up on your kitchen floor,
I passed out in your shower &
was always on your house phone,
was free each time for an hour.
You remebered all my favourite things
you used to make for me
bamboo & rice
& bottle of GT.!
Back as a family,
you, little-Z & me,
now three,
chaoticly,
dancing in the kitchen!

Now that you need me,
& your static caravan
& my little sister,
home from school again,
just because she
can't get on with the lang,
I came & helped you tidy up,
& feed each orphan lamb,
we all lived squashed together for a week
There was no room for dancing in the kitchen,
so we danced in the living-room instead.