Perhaps,
when you have finally grown tall
and I look up to you,
instead of down
into your darling face,
my heart will cease
it's usual backward somersault
of awe.
That something so perfect
could have come through me.
Perhaps,
when you prefer a green spiked mane
of prickly hostility,
instead of blond,
fine baby down
that sits atop your
darling brow, even at thirteen
years old.
I will let go of the, never far away,
fear of harm visiting you.
I can relate to this! Believe me, Sue, - 13 or 31, you will always feel the same. The fears/concerns/jumbled emotions will never change and what is really weird is, we parents wouldn't have it any other way.
a nice testament to motherhood I like that you haven't set unrealistic expectations on your child
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
If I wasn't 300 times your age, and I had the choice, I would have chosen you for a mother. Your children are truly blessed, both in the mother and the poet that you are.