While I rocked you through midnights of crying.
I willed it to move a little faster each time
As I kissed you and left the room sighing.
So tired, I thought, this must be the worst.
Mothering will ease as they age.
And that clock on the wall did seem to start up
As your story filled page after page.
Soon you were quiet in darkest of night,
Your needs less with each growing day.
Though I paid no attention to that ticking clock,
And drooly kisses just faded away.
|From left to right these babies are now studying in Africa, |
almost six feet tall, and visiting potential colleges.
But I still see the same sillies when I look in their eyes.
Soon you were quiet as evening fell,
Nose buried in book or a game.
A quick good night snuggle was all to be done.
And the clock ticked as always the same.
Soon it was silent in afternoons too.
Practices, meetings and school...
And I asked it to slow,
time was going too fast.
But the clock ticked on, quiet but cruel.
Soon now your story will take you away.
There are places to go and be gone.
And though the clock still ticks faster,
faster each day,
One thing keeps my heart strong.
No matter the time,
No matter the place,
When I look in your eyes,
I'll see my baby's sweet face.
No, mothering does not ease as they age, I know now.
But it's sweet pain when love is so deep.
Strange comfort it is now to stop late at your door,
The clock and I watching you sleep.