TO MY GROWN-UP CHILD

To My Grown-Up Child

My hands were busy through the day,
I didn't have much time to play
The little games you asked me to.
I didn't have much time for you.

I'd wash your cloths, I'd sew and cook,
But when you'd bring your picture book
And asked me please to share your fun,
I'd say, "A little later, Hon."

I'd tuck you in all safe at night
And hear your prayers, turn out the light,
Then tiptoe softly to the door . . .
I wish I'd stayed a minute more.

For life is short, the years rush past . . .
A little child grows up so fast.
No longer are they at your side,
Their precious secrets to confide.

The picture books are put away,
There are no longer games to play,
No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear,
That all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands, once busy, now are still.
The days are long and hard to fill.
I wish I could go back and do
The little things you asked me to.

~~Author Unknown To Me

PLEASE SIGN THE GUESTBOOK

Home | Photos | Poetry | Links | Picture Frames

Thank you for visiting our site.
If you have any comments or encounter problems
with any web pages, please send an E-mail.