Languages of Love

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I grew up in a tower of babel

The language that my mother spoke

Was not spoken in my father’s home

So they picked on a compromise

Speaking the language of their adopted land

To speak to us their children.

Yet in times of anger did both regress

To the language of their birth

My voluble mother engaging in soliloquies

In her native tongue

In such a hurry to speak

That her words tripped one another up

But do not think that it was only anger that

Sparked a flow of words that washed over us

In times of extreme love would they use

Terms of endearment from their native tongues

That embraced use, loved us, comforted us

And were the lullabies that serenaded us to sleep

That was how I grew up in a literal melting pot

Where words thrown and stirred in

Would season our conversations

Peppered and flavoured like a spicy mix

Of a word curry that was served steaming

A dish shared and partaken by the family

***

On to  'L' for 'Languages of Love'.

My challenge for April is to write poetry. 

My A to Z entries can be navigated to from this page - A2Z, I will be very pleased if you managed to take some time out to read and comments on the poems.

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