Public Reading

I'm attending my local writers' group, and last Tuesday we visted a corresponding group in a nearby town. They were having an open mike night, and I actually got up and read one of my poems. It was a very scary thing to do, and it was the first time I've ever done something so public, but I got a good reaction - people came up afterwards and said they thought it was beautiful and asked to read it on the page.
The poem's called "Heart Notes", which is a term in perfume making, and it is about how smell can trigger long forgotten memories.

Now I'm going to take part in our group's contribution to our town's summer festival and I'm going to read this poem, which I'm still tweaking. (I think I want to drop the "of" in the third line as Scots would just say "out the rain".) This is also about memory, and how simply seeing an object can prompt a strong, long forgotten response. Anyway comments welcome.

Hummels at the Antique Fair

It cost a pound to
get inside the hall,
and out of the rain.
Old ladies throng,
enthralled by the
promise of scones
and crystal swans.

Forced by the crush
I stop by a stall.
Three bucolic figures,
set out on green baize,
catch my eye.Two feed
chickens maize, while
the other hugs a fawn.

Mother’s model porcelain kinder
ranged all along the mantlepiece,
from where they lorded over us.
Can see them still, smug,
hard-baked wee faces
that told on us.
We hated them.

Motherless she was
raised in war, by maiden aunts who
rationed praise and hated waste.

We three were never at peace;
so a careless ball or doll
cum guided missile,
would turn them
into skittles.

Why treasure imported clay
over home-thrown pot?
Why the life long love of kitsch?

I should’ve scratched that itch.