That Night Mother Had No Egg

I remember with a child's mind stealing An egg, hoping through prayers I wouldn't be Found out. When at teatime I felt deeply Ashamed — didn't look at mother biting Her bottom lip, pushing her plate around And around 'keep shtum' Is all that I thought? Then that night — I worried around the clock. This egg would it hatch. Later …afterthoughts- I thought not. But daily …I snuck into the boiler Cupboard like an overdue expecting Father, but a while — after I couldn't fritter Away more time mentally brooding. It isn't meant to be this egg and me. 'That butcher's egg is a Dodo my cares For it is dead'. I pitied for it briefly, 'Felt guilty for my mother's meagre shares.'