My only son

I hate it when people laugh at David
so we stay at home most of the time.
Since the shop became too much for me
we’ve not had many visitors. I never wanted
any help with him. He’s my boy. This morning I fell
in the kitchen, stared at the lino for an hour.
David found me and I asked him to pick me up.
I’m nearly seventy-five. I often wonder
Will my pride turn out to be his downfall?
He can’t do his shoes up without my help.

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