Aging Poem

Children All Grown Up Poem

Remember your parents in your busy lives. We can't even begin to give back what they have given us.

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This poem made me cry, which to me, the mark of a good poem is if it evokes a deep feeling. I feel so very sad for this woman, and your words cut to the very core of her feelings of loss,...

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Mother

©

Published: February 2006


She's sitting in a rocking chair.
She's peeking out the window,
looking at the children playing, remembering her own.

She thinks back to baking bread for sandwiches,
putting bandages on skinned up knees,
singing lullabies, tucking the covers under chins so tight.

If she listens closely she can still hear the pitter patter of little feet,
laughter echoing through out the hall.
She lifts up her hand to feel her wet cheek where tears have fallen down.
All of her mothering seems to be in vain.

Grown daughters and sons are way too busy now.
Too busy to send cards, flowers,
or just pick up the phone.

Can't you see her tender heart breaking as she rolls the chair away.
All of their needs put first and her needs thrown away.
One day it will be too late for their apologies, too late for the I love you.
No need to say it now when you should have done it now.

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Has this poem touched you? Share your story!
  • by Patricia A. Fleming, Trenton, NJ
  • 1 month ago

This poem made me cry, which to me, the mark of a good poem is if it evokes a deep feeling. I feel so very sad for this woman, and your words cut to the very core of her feelings of loss, loneliness, feeling nonexistent, feeling useless and unappreciated, and worst of all unloved. I never had children, and now I never will, and that gives me great sadness. But I think for a woman who bore children, loved them, guided them and raised them, making millions of sacrifices along the way, only to be deserted and forgotten by those children, would be a far greater hurt and pain. Loved this poem, even if it was sad. God bless that poor, sad, sweet mom.

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