All grown up
Mother and Child Reading by Frederick Warren Freer
To my grown-up son
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 your picture book
And ask me please to share your fun,
I'd say: "A little later, son"
I'd tuck you in all safe at night,
And hear your prayers, turn out the light,
Then tip-toe softly to the door. . .
I wish I'd stayed a minute more.
For life is short, the years rush past . . .
A little boy grows up so fast.
No longer is he at your side,
His precious secrets to confide.
The picture books are put away;
There are no longer games to hear-
That's 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.
From "Stories for the heart" compiled by Alice Gray
painting by George Dunlop Leslie
This is dedicated to all the mothers who rush about doing other "important" things (link) . . . just remember, time is so short and before you know it our children have left home. I've been guilty of this.