The Summer Guilt

They count down days with joy and cheer,

While I count costs I cannot clear.

Six weeks long, the break begins

But freedom’s price wears paper thin.

The lunch they’d get with school each day,

Now mine to find, come what may.

Bread runs short, the milk runs low,

I hide the dread so they won’t know.

No seaside trips, no circus tent,

Just hours at home with pennies spent.

The adverts flash with deals and fun

A world that’s lit for everyone…

(Except for those who simply cope,

Who trade in plans for threadbare hope).

I fake a smile, I plan a walk,

We make up games, we laugh, we talk.

But still the guilt – sharp, deep, and real –

They miss out on what others feel.

They say, “It’s fine,” with hearts so kind,

But shame and hunger blur my mind.

I skip a meal to stretch the rest,

To try and give what they love best.

It shouldn’t hurt to raise a child,

To watch their dreams go running wild.

But summer comes, and in its glow,

The cracks long-patched begin to show.

(Yet through it all, they hold my hand,

As if, somehow, they understand).