Still in Search of roots

Prompted by a census 1911 search I took a literal journey to my roots.

In Search of Mother

A journey I would not have taken,

Cross border, cross time

Into a past best forgotten,

If not to find the place

Where she was born.

A gap, an ache, a yawn,

In the row that used to house

The Hursons and the Dillons

And the Kirks and the Stewarts.

Their back yards now strewn

With black rubber tyres, rusted wheel

Rims, discarded spares and parts.

Nothing to salvage here

of her beginnings.

Copyright with Cathy Leonard 2018