released
from mother’s grasp—
hop scotch

Sunlight bounces off pale cement. Eyes watering I turn to my mother. Slowly I mouth the words. “Are we nearly there?”

“Look ahead—see the three golden balls.”

I gesture a ?. She points to the three brass balls suspended over the door of a shop painted black.

She presses down the burnished handle of the door. As we step inside, a bell chimes. A portly man peers through a metal grill at the counter. The walls of the shop are decked with piano accordions, guitars, trumpets, clocks, and a barometer. Gilt-framed paintings hang on the peg board behind him.

My mother places a small box on the counter and asks what the ring inside is worth. She tells him she is deaf. He scribbles an offer of €7, which she refuses. Back on the street I ask with wide eyes where she got the ring.

“I was engaged to a fellow called Kenneth before I got sick. He left for America. Say nothing at home. Dada lost the jackpot at the dogs last Saturday.”

hand in hand
we dodge a sudden
sun shower

Mary White

lives in Dublin, Ireland. She is a retired librarian who is lucky to live near her children and grandchildren. She writes many haikai forms: haiku, haibun, renku, rengay, and haiga. She also exhibits her Art. Her work is published in Blithe Spirit, Failed Haiku, Frogpond Journal, The Haibun Journal, hedgerow, The Heron’s Nest, Modern Haiku, Presence, and Seashores Haiku Journal.

More on the Web: By, About, and Beyond

⚡ New to Haiku: Advice for Beginners – Mary White, interview by Julie Bloss Kelsey for The Haiku Foundation (14 August 2022)