A MOTHER’S DAY

Mom sits thinking about her girls and her boys,
reminiscing days the floor was covered with toys.
Remembering the tiny bootees and the little shoes,
remembering all the gurgles and the little coos.

When you said your first word she was so proud,
and was beside herself when you laughed out loud.
When you cut your first tooth and began to crawl,
she just couldn’t wait to give all the kinfolk a call.

She misses singing you lullabies in her old rocking chair,
as she looks at your baby book and your first lock of hair.
Those crew haircuts, pony tails, and the dog eared locks,
the cowboy boots, and penny loafers, and little bobby socks.

She misses the fingerprints found all over the wall,
the coats and the mittens that hung in the hall.
The paper dolls, and toy cars, and the little trikes,
and when you were older the two wheel bikes.

How you looked forward to each and every New Year,
although you fell asleep before it was near.
The pictures you brought her that you drew in school,
the words that you used like awesome and cool.

The Valentine cards you made all by yourself,
the Barbie dolls and models that set on a shelf.
St. Patrick’s Day when your clothes were all greens,
your little chairs that were stuffed full of beans.

The Easter suits and the dresses covered with lace,
colored eggs and stuffed bunnies all over the place.
Flowery weeds that you gave her on Mother’s Day,
and hearing your footsteps as you run out to play.

Father’s Day and the things you made for your dad,
those gifts were the most precious that he ever had.
Then going to the carnival and watching you ride,
watching you at the park as you went down the slide.

The picnics with peanut butter and jelly on bread,
hearing you say your prayers before going to bed.
Taking you Trick or Treating Halloween night,
trying to juggle all the bags and a huge flashlight.

Thanksgiving dinners when everyone was still home,
the house seems so empty now that you are all grown.
Seeing the happiness that spread across your little face,
as you ate Christmas dinner after you had said grace.

Blowing out all the candles on your birthday cake,
tightly closing your eyes for the wishes you’d make.
Watching you open gifts covered with paper and bows,
placing every card that you got very neatly in rows.

These are just a few things remembered by your mother,
she remembers all your childhood at one time or another.
She misses the goodnight hugs and the goodnight kisses,
there are thousands of things that she really misses.

About Emmanuel Muema

Hi, I'm Emmanuel Muema, a Human Resource University graduate, an obsessive blogger, a graphic artist and a huge hiphop fan. I enjoy Lil Wayne's music quite a lot. Find me on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and Google Plus. I would love to connect with as many Wordpress users as possible. Let's trade likes and comments.

Posted on April 11, 2015, in POEMS. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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