Mummy

I do not wish you back again.
I do not want them back again
Those long-lost years re-trod again
That final freakish twilight span
An absence even you mislaid. All gone

For good. And good it is
For I’d not wish return to where
Your face blanked out with who and where.
Your nowhere face, the care and wear
Transferred to caring visitor.

Just ‘how’ is what I’m asking here
To take you back down all the years
And what if fate had not served up
A severance like afterbirth. A giving up
On motherhood, the letting go of four
Small hands, four empty shoes, four
Bright blue eyes the same as you
And bonds like tendons
Torn and soft. And almost new.

Blown apart like thistledown
In separate spaces, up and down
All countrywide. We met across a great divide
Our ships would pass and then collide
But always courteous and kind. And all at sea
A cruel sea, where making waves was strictly banned
Like hugs and kisses, hands in hand.

And mummy just some bandaged bones, I learned at school.
A ghost, entombed.

For my dVerse Meeting the Bar prompt of poetry craft and critique, 'to turn again, about turn again' we are employing the device of 'epiphora/epistrophe' which makes use of consecutive end line repeats of words or phrases.  The optional extra is 'Symploce' - a consecutive repeat of first and final words. 
Since 'epiphora' is also a medical term for excess tear production, I have given the poem a sad theme.