We taught you big words
when you were little - acoutrement and ubiquitous.
I used to kiss you just above
your tiny nose whenever I buckled you in,
and you'd talk - from the back seat
to the front seat, from our house
all the way to wherever we were going, you'd talk.
At night you'd snuggle next to me,
and I'd tell you stories till
one of us fell asleep.
And although I didn't see
the teen in the boy,
I still see the little
boy in the teen, and
I still sometimes almost
reach for your hand as we walk.
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 1:05 AM UTC
We taught you big words
when you were little - acoutrement and ubiquitous.
I used to kiss you just above
your tiny nose whenever I buckled you in,
and you'd talk - from the back seat
to the front seat, from our house
all the way to wherever we were going, you'd talk.
At night you'd snuggle next to me,
and I'd tell you stories till
one of us fell asleep.
And although I didn't see
the teen in the boy,
I still see the little
boy in the teen, and
I still sometimes almost
reach for your hand as we walk.
I really don't only write poems about my kids, but well, here's another, for Noah, who's now 17.