This must be the first hour of your life; you are so happy.
You wait and watch for the movement, then cry out in pain and laugh
through tears as my pure soft fingers wrap around yours.
You pull me close and whisper, "Thank you, God."
You hold my hand and we take those first few steps across the floor.
You laugh with me and put new ribbons in my glossy brown hair.
We quarrel and you say, "Can't you ever remember to keep your feet off the chair?"
Now it is noon, and I am so happy and your life seems complete.
I have grown up; I have him and I have my own little ones.
We talk and visit and watch them grow,
and most of all, I need you as a friend.
But a dark cloud overshadows you and you are alone; your heart seems to break
because there can't be another love for you.
I still come and your days are better.
I curl your silver hair, but I quarrel at you now and say,
"Don't you remember telling me that twice before!"
Now I must take you in the car because you do not trust your eyes.
I grasp your hand as we cross the street for you totter and do not hear well.
You rest and I hold your worn, thin hand. You try to grasp it tighter
but your strength won't come.
I wait and watch for the movement. Then with tears of sorrow I pull you close and whisper,
"Thank you, God."
I am so sad.
For now it is midnight.
I love you, Mama,