3100
There lies a red chenille robe
in a cardboard box that I keep.
It is threadbare and tattered
from rocking my two babies to sleep.
Many years of rocking and nodding
are etched into that old cloth.
The sleepless night, the ring of laughter
and the joy of loving them both.
The bacon is fried, the grits are done
and the dishes are in the sink.
I'm feeding my toddlers their breakfast
and one just spilled her drink.
Runny little noses, feverish heds,
there'll be no kindergarden today.
Momma's gonna make it all better.
Dirty floors will have to stay.
Music recitals and basketball games
as they hurry on their way;
Wet morning kisses on my face
as they greet a whole new day.
The watching of a clock
when her curfew draws.
My pride in their achievements,
my pain, when I see them cry-
Setting them free to become to become adults
that was the hardest of it all.
Because they are still my babies,
I want to catch them when they fall.
Soft bottoms have left their marks
and burps have made their stains
In daydream I'm wearing our robe
and rocking my babies again.
