To My Growing Up Son

My hands were busy through the day,
I did not have much to play;
The little games you asked me to,
I did not have much time for you.

I would wash your clothes; I would sew and cook,
But when you would bring your picture book;
And ask me, please, to share your share your fun,
I would say, “A little latter son.”

I would tuck you in all safe at night,
And hear your prayers, turn out the light,
Then tip toe safely to the door,
I wish I would stay a little longer.

For life is short and 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 children’s games to play;
No goodnight kisses, no prayers to hear,
That all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands once busy, now lie still,
The days are long, and hard to fill;
I wish I might go back and do,
The little things you asked me to!