Two mornings each week
after the diaper and the toys and the dancing
we find ourselves upstairs in the rocking chair
and she sleeps gently in my arms.
Each time she grows imperceptibly older
daily changes invisible
undeniable.
We rock, we rock, we rock...
Tears come as I realize that these days are numbered
that already more have passed than are to come.
One day we will watch pridefully
as she matures and grows and becomes
the "herself" she was born to be.
But these napping Monday mornings
have already cast their gossamer over the days ahead
the thin blanket of the past keeping us warm
as we hurtle hopelessly into the night.
No comments:
Post a Comment