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
play.
No good-night kisses, 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
