Growing Older With My Sons Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Quietly withdrawn, holding on to silent feelings of gentle sorrow.
Knowing my sons, are growing up and away, thoughts along that line
pull my heart in opposite directions.
Letting go - up to a point - then pulling back, a quartet of yo-yo's
are driving me back and forth.
It will happen whether or not I want it to, because that is the
normal way of growing up.
It is very difficult at times, and yet I want to let go and watch
them fly - soar away - on their own.
It will reinforce the facts of their upbringing, the tender care
given them in all things as they grew from one stage to the next.
They did it so delicately, so gently, they've always made it so
easy; such gentle, kind souls from birth.
Always proud, watching them in the present, reflecting on the
memories of the past.
How differently one being can become from one year to the next.
Walking from the shadows of yesterday, side by side, all of us
grown up and getting accustomed to our new relationships.
We take different forks in the road ahead, no need to say good-
bye, for we know that in the future our paths will cross and
recross many times before we part this earth for good.
Quietly withdrawn, holding on to silent feelings of gentle
sorrow and life moves forward.