Gideon turned seven whole years old last month.
Isaac, my very last baby ever (unless some act of God occurs), turned three whole years old this month.
His brothers made him birthday toast. Different, yes, but sweet.
I wrote this poem a couple of weeks ago. It hit me as I was tucking Isaac into bed one night, but it's how I feel about every single one of my boys, as they are growing into such amazing big boys and young men. Yes, I know, it's terribly sappy. The older I get, the bigger a baby I become.
Mine
Aching, longing
Sighing, wishing
Joyful, fullness
Tender, squishing
Baby's face
I still can see
Chubby cheeks
Astounding me
Can't you stay
Forever mine?
Will grasping tightly
Pause Nature's time?
My little warrior
My angel sweet
Mountains climbing
With Future's feet
I'll not keep you
Nor make you stay
Loving, fighting
You'll go your way
written & copyrighted by me
