Wednesday, October 7, 2009

To My Grown-up Child

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 to share your fun

I'd say: "A little later, hon."

I'd tuck you in all safe at night

And hear you prayers, turn out the light,

Then tiptoe softly to the door

I wish I'd stay a minute more.

For life is short, the years rush past

A little child grows up so fast.

No longer standing at your side

With precious secrets to confide.

The picture books are put away.

There are no longer games to play.

No goodnight 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.

(Author unknown)


  1. The first time I've ever read this poem was six years ago! It shot me straight in the heart and I kept it. I have posted it in my hallway so as to remind me just how precious time is with my little ones.

  2. Great Poem, Liz. Makes me think twice about how much time I spend at this computer instead of with my son. Thanks for sharing it.

  3. Thanks for the post! After I read this poem I ran right upstairs to sit and talk with my boys for a few minutes before coming back down to finish the dishes. It was great!



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