Always a parent. The kinder are grown, gone, got lives of their own. Yet I will always be their momma. I am concerned if they are eating right, sleeping enough, and if they are concerned about their cholesterol levels. This is why I so relate to this poem.
Sentimental Moment or Why Did the Baguette Cross the Road?
Don't fill up on bread I say absent-mindedly The servings here are huge My son, whose hair may be receding a bit, says Did you really just say that to me? What he doesn't know is that when we're walking together, when we get to the curb I sometimes start to reach for his hand
from Poetry Northwest, Volume XLI, No. 3, Autumn 2000
Poetry Daily, University of Washington, Seattle, WA
Copyright 2001 by Robert Hershon.
All rights reserved.