My mother used to live on the moon.
She orbited my planet and controlled my weather.
She smiled in my sunshine, and soothed my monsoons
Until they were drizzle on my cheeks.
During the days she turned to smoke,
But like the tides she always came back.
She pleated my hair and spoke
Of faraway lands before bedtime.
She was forever leaving gifts on my doorstep,
And remembering my favourite colour.
She listened to my stories, and she spent
Her time on me, despite the distance.
My small arms reach out into the night and it seems
As though I could clutch that white speck in my palms.
My spaceman mother, a woman of dreams.
Robyn Barclay (she/her)