on the train

He cried with some gusto
imbued with passion
that embarrassed the mother
who tried to quieten his cry
with an equal measure of
helpless reprimand.

No one looked
No one said anything
We are Londoners
We mind our own business.

A piece of cake sat silently
Covered in icing
oozing with sweetness
in my handbag.
Should I?

I tapped on the shoulder
‘Mum, I have a some cake
for your son’
“Oh no! He’s just being a brat”
‘But please” I said, take it.
Very reluctantly
she succumbed to my offer

The little boy took it and
devoured it whilst mum
was still trying to find
reasons for not accepting it.
I then explained that it was from tea 
that was too much for me.
‘Thank God, you brought it” she said!

I looked away - it was my turn
to be embarrassed.
Was it my dog collar?
But from the corner
of my eye, I could see 
the mother
was calmer, softer and more gentle
with her child…

It was a piece of cake!

Published by rugunawardene

Worship, song, dance, food, art, travel, music, culture (did I say culture?!)

One thought on “on the train

  1. This is lovely, Ruwani! The mole – according to Charlie Mackesy – thinks that cake is always the answer!!! Xxx


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