'Pancakes' was published in the now defunct Scottish literary magazine The Ranfurly Review in early 2009. The poem was subsequently included in my first full collection 'As I sit quietly, I begin to smell burning' in 2014.

'Yir a wee puke.'
That's whit ma Granny
used to say tae me.
'Yir a wee puke.'

Ah think whit she meant wiz,
ah wiz a wee bit saft in the heed,
a wee bit sensitive n dependent,
a mammies boy like, daft wae it tae.

'Yir mammy and daddy,
see only the Angel's Halo
above your heed, Boy.'

She didnay mean it nasty.
Maybe she wiz a bit jealous.
Bit she meant it in a way
that wiz jist a wee observation.

'That boy, he's as saft
as a Caramel Sundae.'
Ma gran used to make
pancakes every Saturday.

Ah wid watch her
make the mix up,
wae eggs,
flour and milk.

She'd spoon the mix oot
pouring it ontae the hot pan,
in a wee circle it wid form,
and it wid cook.

Then she wid flip it over
it wid be golden broon.
She'd make a tray a thum
fir the whole family tay eat
wae thur tea and coffee.

Ah wid just stand beside her,
watch thum being made.
Ah wid smell thum like a wee prayer.

The sweet baked smell clung tae ma nostrils.

Ah loved that,
watching her make the pancakes,
wee circular pancakes,
wee, saft halos, that we ate.