Please send us postcards of the sky
and tell us if it's really blue.
Your father says, don't touch the sun.
Your gran knits sweaters one by one.
Your sister has your room. Each night
she crouches at your windowsill
and watches out for you. But still
no word? Is airmail postage much too steep?
What classes are you taking now?
And are you getting enough sleep?
Can you keep warm? Do wear a scarf.
But I shan't nag - you're old enough
To take care of yourself. We miss you lots.
The budgies have stopped singing, and their shelf
Is strewn with fallen feathers. Once you'd flown
We lit a candle for you, and it drips
and flickers - oh, I'm just being glum.
It'll get you down. You've left the nest
Empty, but it's for the best.
How thrilling for you it must be
to finally study overseas!
Icarus, our darling boy,
we're proud of you. Do send word home
and send us postcards of the sky.
-- Love, Mum.