That cake shop down the road

I saw her the other day  

in that cake shop down the road.

Mum’s old friend, or should I say

the wife of mum’s old friend?

Or should I say

the wife of mum’s old special friend?

The one who came over when dad was working.

I saw her the other day

standing with her daughter next to that cake shop down the road.

She saw me too but turned away,

probably mistaking me for mum.

Most people do anyway.  

I saw her the other day with her daughter.  

She’s all grown up now; maybe six, seven, eight?

Wearing glasses now, ‘How ironic’

I thought.

He used to tease me about my glasses.

I saw him last at the cake shop too, 

after everything was over.

Mum had taken us there for a treat,

I wanted chocolate cake.

They saw each other and nodded.

It started when they exchanged numbers at church.

He first came over to build a wardrobe with dad.

Mum cooked for him and he went home.

He came again the next day and the day after that

and everyday after that.

Mostly when her or dad were working.

They told us it was a play date but didn’t say who for.

Mum came to sleep in my room one day.

I was woken up to the sound of her talking

to him.

That’s when I knew

that our perfect family was ruined.

Dad found out a few months later.

I saw her the other day,

working in that cake shop down the road.

The door chimed as I walked in.

She stopped. For a second she thought I was mum.

I asked her for the chocolate sponge.

She slid the window open to cut me a slice

and said nothing.

I paid the vendor and left.

Then I heard a quiet voice behind me.

“Have a nice day.”

This poem was submitted by Laura Persson from Sweden.

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