The Shopping War


At T.J. Hughes'
an army of headscarfed women,
battled for the bargains.
With vice-like grip
I'd hold my mother's hand,
afraid to stumble
and be lost forevermore.
Through surging crowds
that carried us along,
mum bravely
stood her ground,
to do what must be done.
Disheveled, we'd emerge
to rain soaked streets,
with bulging bags
of navy knickers, bodices
and socks.
A cup of tea at Woolworth's Cafe,
revived us for the bus;
and, radiant with success,
though tired
and battle worn,
my mum would
rest her weary bones,
at home.
We had survived
to fight another day.
So I'd go out to play.

By Kath Dodd