Beautiful, poignant & too often true poem I was touched by the other day.

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 clothes;
I’d sew and cook,
But when you”d bring me your picture book
and ask me to share your fun,
I’d say, “Later, we”ll have time for fun.”

I’d tuck you in all safe at night
and hear your prayers, turn out the light,
Then I’d 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 is your child at your side,
No more precious secrets to confide;
The picture books are put away.

There are no longer games to play,
No good night 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.


Comments are closed.