Poem for a Mother

Like A Beacon

In London
every now and then
I get this craving
for my mother's food
I leave art galleries
in search of plantains
saltfish / sweet potatoes

I need this link

I need this touch
of home
swinging my bag
like a beacon
against the cold

© Grace Nichols 1984.

I found this poem in a greeeting card in a library book I was shelving, obviously used as a bookmark by a borrower. Someone had written the poem out by hand in what looked like a card from a son to a mother, but without the name of the poet. The message said

Mum
I saw this poem and thought of you.
Love

I thought the poem rang a bell, I may have even blogged it before? A quick Google brought it up. God Bless Google.

Anyway I will try and return it to its rightful owner. Mothers apperciate these sort of things, yes?