Dear mother,
We are your babies for a little while.
Then we grow and explore our independence.
We swear we will never sound like you.
Until...One day we do.
At first it shocks us.
And yes, we will try to push away.
Then we have children.
Again... we repeat what you say.
By that time we realize a thing or two.
Then we understand why you do what you do.
When we reach that conclusion.
Things will have changed.
We will feel sorrow...
We will feel guilt...
We will cherish the blanket,
That you took the time to quilt.
We will not see this coming.
But things will really change.
The ones who call us their babies.
Become our babies in a way.
Our babies are there.
And gone in a day.
Lost my mother a year ago this poem is dedicated to her.
One of my favorite