The typical culprits
tend to pass me by:
I laughed on the first day
of kindergarten,
smiled at all the birthdays,
and shook my head
over each box of too-small
clothes I stacked in
the garage.
But last night on the boat
in the bright hour between
sunset and dusk
with a full moon over
calm water,
the weight of your
head on my shoulder
pricked my eyes
and dropped down heavy
into my mother-heart.
Around your life-jacket
my arms felt small, short
like my days as the
queen of your little boy-heart.
The milestones will surely keep
coming; but, oh my sweet son,
the little moments
I will keep for us.
1 comment:
Haley, I'm not sure my heart can hold all the feelings your poem provoked. Beautiful. (something also to do with the fact that my firstborn is moving out of the house on Saturday).
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