To My Grown Up Son by Alice E. Chase

My hands were busy through the day;

I didn’t have much time to play

The little games you asked me to –

I didn’t have much time for you.

I’d wash your clothes, I’d sew and cook;

But when you’d bring your picture book

And asked 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 tip-toe 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 payers to hear –

That all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands, once busy, now are still.

The days are long and hard to fill.

I wish I could go back and do

The little things you asked me to.