Little One, wilted, you were, weren't you?
And if you are a little bit honest
with yourself, you'll see
that you still are.
Yes, Little One, you've come so very far
but not even close to the
place you need to be. Demolish that frown.
Settle down and you may be okay.
Try to be fine, love.
Try to function.
That junction you are stuck at;
just drive across it like a mad woman.
Just go. Overthrow your fears and cares.
Threadbare, you're off on a journey, Little One.
You can do it;
I'm your star in the sky; I say you'll get through it.
Pick up your life, gather those rags,
the shards, the tiny pieces
that once comprised a day in the future.
Patch them back together, stitch them up with magic thread
and make a different kind of life instead.
One without me, a year less one season.
For some funny little reason, love,
you won't be able to think about summer
any more without thinking of me.
I'm sorry that has to be how it has to be.
You never liked it anyway, Little One.
You fainted in the heat; you couldn't cope,
but I hope you're able to now.
You know I would never allow this incredible moping.
Pull yourself together, Little One.
The things you regret are now already done.
You can't change the facts.
I know in your mind you want so much more
but we can't arrange any of that, any of this.
You miss me, my love.
I miss you as well and I want to tell you
that your life was a spark of my undying fire.
And if I were here now, I would
try to inspire some spark in you now.
Just make me this little vow, Little One.
Love me forever, but please don't dwell.
I know you're going through a unique kind of hell
but that's enough of all this.
Don't dismiss the life you have made.
Don't let my spark in the fire shudder and fade.
Little One, step out of this shade.
In a day, or more than a day, or many more days,
you will find a place.
Remember I waved a little flower in front of your face
to make you smile, wearing pink.
And when you think you're alone,
remember, love:
give yourself a bloody shove. Get back
outside and into the light.
I never taught you to give up on a fight.
And when that night closes in and
attacks.
Know that, while I can never come back,
I never even went at all.
I'm in your pictures on the wall and in your
hands and in the golden threads of your hair.
You're wrong when you say I'm not there, Little One.
I'm not done.
I'm still here. I'm around: it's true.
I'm your mum, Little One, and I'm still sat here, right next to you.
