Bonnet

She held him so close,
Rubbed his soft budded nose,
Very like his fathers,
Like her around the eyes,
His nose like a conker,
In the hazy sunlight.

A day planned to cut ties.
Bonnet knitted by nuns,
Like wool on a fragile mouse,
She must ‘stick to her guns’.

The walls a washy mint,
The corridor a hive,
The nurse comes to check,
Check she’s alive.
 
A nod and a wink,
A smile and rolled eyes,
She heaves him over,
Time to say some goodbyes.