Women’s Realm

Part One: Woman On The Train Opposite

She meant business, I could tell;
She was ready to raise corporate hell.
She sat and read,
And pulled at the tight curls
That teased the space around her head.
She was seductive, probably productive,
Efficient, intelligent, smart –
She probably didn’t fart.
She was a businesswoman, keen
To get on, get ahead, but without
Having to go to bed with any top dogs:
She’d leave that to the slags.
She had talent, drive; she knew
How to thrive, stay alive in the big bad city,
Even when the going got shitty, tough:
She was hard, she was rough enough.

 

Part Two: Mother And Daughter

She knew how to relate to her daughter,
Who was probably about eight.
She didn’t treat her like an adult
Or a child, but like a person growing up;
She asked her sensible questions
As they shared her crisps and sweets,
But played with her too, hugged her,
Told her about some things not to do;
She was striking a balance
In her guidance; not mothering her,
But being a mother to her.
It was a lovely scene, a picture
That might have been captured
By one of the great artist’s of the past,
Or maybe she would just capture it again herself,
Tomorrow or the next day.

 

Part Three: Woman With Cushions

She stood on the doorstep and worked
With the cushions in her hands,
Bashing them together like bratty kids’ heads,
So that the dust went to the wind
Away from the house, her house, her home
That she’d spent ages making, getting right:
She knew what she was doing, I could tell,
As I glanced as I skulked past.
She was a strong round woman, with arms
That could break legs or necks;
She looked as though she thrived on housework,
And I wasn’t about to argue
That this wasn’t her castle.
She was all housewife and mother, all
Muscle and big, comforting breast –
This was her domain. She was the bird that built this nest.