This poem so touched me about over commitment and being too busy. The author is unknown.
TO MY GROWN UP SON
My hands were busy through the day
I didn’t have much time play
The little games you asked me to
I didn’t have much time for you
I’d wash your clothes and sew and cook
But when you’d bring your picture book
And ask me please to share your fun
I’d say, “A little later son.”
I’d tuck you in all safe at night
And hear your prayers… turn out the light
Then tiptoe softly to the door,
I wish I’d stayed a minute more
For life is short, the years rush past
A little boy grows up so fast
No longer is he at your side,
his precious secrets to confide.
The picture books are put away
There are no longer games to play
No good night kiss, no prayers to hear,
that all belongs to yesteryear.
My hands once busy are now still
The long days are hard to fill
I wish I could go back and doThe little things you asked me to do.
-anonymous
