My Nana used to say, "Tempus fugit." It's Latin for "time flees"--which over the years has turned to "time flies". Once again, she's provided me inspiration to write.
Tempus Fugit
I woke up this morning
to the day already gone
held in my arms
my son of seven months
so aware of how few days
I have left to feed him
from my own breasts
before he pushes me away
and turns to more grown-up fare.
It is the same hand pulling him close
that holds the spoon, the cup
teaching him to feed himself
the same heart wanting him
to stay small just a while longer
that will let him go
one day at a time
that will still be letting go
long after he has little ones of his own.
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6 comments:
Just til he is 20? Hmmm. Me thinks the rest of your life...and so, to be a mother.
Lizzie (or is that Steve?)--you are right. But how to say "for the rest of my life" without being cliche? I'm definitely open to ideas, since this is new and rough!
I've been looking at this concept of keeping my loved ones close while at the same time allowing them the space they need to learn and grow. I was wanting that juxtaposition to linger in the last line. Great first draft!
Ruth, I really like that idea. I'll work on it. And if you have any suggestions on how to say it (or on any other parts of the poem) I'm all ears! :)
Okay, Ruth & Lizzie--I revised the ending (based on inspiration that arrived in the shower, of all places). Is it more along the lines of what either/both of you were thinking?
Good verse!
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