Reflection
Thirty years from now
or maybe twenty
or perhaps even younger
when you are ten
when you start to realize who you are
and begin to wonder about your childhood
as one often reflects
to understand the present
and to see the future
I will tell you stories of
the text book baby you were
when you were just one
you climbed and explored
you were obsessed with balloons
at two it was things outdoors
like dirt, pebbles, leaves and flowers
however you did not like worms
you were fantastic with words
as you loved to read, and be read to
you were acute with your sight, hearing
your eyes did not miss a playground
as you loved to play
and you would tell me you hear
the birds chirping early in the morning
you were brave, bold, shy and bashful
you were always gregarious and loved to travel
but loved the comfort of your home
you were lovable and loved to laugh
I would tickle you
you'd collapse with laughter,
begging me to stop,
then when I did, you'd say
tickle me again mommy, and
you always wanted to be hugged.
June 17, 2009
or maybe twenty
or perhaps even younger
when you are ten
when you start to realize who you are
and begin to wonder about your childhood
as one often reflects
to understand the present
and to see the future
I will tell you stories of
the text book baby you were
when you were just one
you climbed and explored
you were obsessed with balloons
at two it was things outdoors
like dirt, pebbles, leaves and flowers
however you did not like worms
you were fantastic with words
as you loved to read, and be read to
you were acute with your sight, hearing
your eyes did not miss a playground
as you loved to play
and you would tell me you hear
the birds chirping early in the morning
you were brave, bold, shy and bashful
you were always gregarious and loved to travel
but loved the comfort of your home
you were lovable and loved to laugh
I would tickle you
you'd collapse with laughter,
begging me to stop,
then when I did, you'd say
tickle me again mommy, and
you always wanted to be hugged.
June 17, 2009
posted by Nali at 7:24 AM
3 Comments:
Like mother, like daughter...beautiful reflection...your little one is growing up to be someone beautiful inside and out - just like her mother...
Thanks UL. I often wonder about my childhood but my mom is not around to answer my questions and my dad just doesn't remember things..he would remember random things and tell me, but I am sure my mom would have been able to tell me all the little nuances about myself that would satiate my quest of knowledge about me.
That was a beautiful poem...
(came over from UL's - hope you don't mind:))
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