'It's time for breakfast,
Little Man'.
And Cheerios he gobbles.
While dressing,
With just one foot
Through his underwear,
He hobbles.
And then the bus stop,
So grown up
He pretends that I'm
Not there
And snarls as Mom,
As mothers will,
Brushes back his hair.
The bus arrives,
And up he goes
Without a backward glance.
A lump is forming
In my throat,
But I don't get a chance
To give a hug
Or one caress.
'Gee! Moms can act
So dumb.'
I'm sure
That if he'd had his way
I'd never even come.
And so my boy,
My last born son,
Goes off, alone,
To school.
And I'm left here
Behind the bus
Feeling like a fool.
But I can't help it
Can I?
He'll never have to know
That his 'Dumb Mom'
Was crying
As she watched
The school bus go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We never had a school bus but I know just how you felt seeing him go and him not giving a backward glance. Both my two cried the first day of school and when I came to collect my youngest on his first day he was still crying to my dismay! All the tears have dried now but when we look back they still tug at our heart strings. Another splendid poem of yours. Ruthy :)