My Mum and the Beatles
She heard the music
but still she walked past
the Cavern in those heady early days
before the sixties came swinging in,
intent on shopping – her bottom drawer
full of linen, not vinyl.
Come with us! Her friends chattering
in the Cotton Exchange typing pool,
then the tap… tap… tap
of her heels on polished floors
and pavements down to Lewis’s,
blushing below the naked statue –
all that to come – her mother measuring
her twenty one inch waist, the snip
of pinking sheers through satin
those last Waterloo evenings,
Her friends still hummed
with pop and possibilities:
These four are fab! Come with us!
But she never did go.
All she needed was love.
Love, she said, is all you need.
By Clare Kirwan