Kathie Cerveny (kathie@DELTA.EECS.NWU.EDU)
Fri, 15 May 1992 11:15:45 CDT
As the parent of two grown men (used to be my babies) I found this very
TO MY GROWN-UP CHILDREN
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, dear."
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 child grows up so fast.
No longer are they at your side
Their precious secrets to confide.
The picture books ae put away,
There are no longer games to play,
No good-night 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.
Terry Howerton Sakima Group, Inc. SCOUTER Magazine Kansas City