Cries arise from the silence of the room
a mother sighs with relief of her womb
knees are skinned by a toddle then fall
Up he comes brushing hands that are so small
Running and jumping quickly to play
Not a care in the world just happy and gay
Pulling pig tails and sticking out his tongue
The last to come in after the bell has rung
A blush and a glazy eyed stare
He looks and realizes how fair
Sweaty palms and weak in the knees
Flowers behind his back the future he sees
Up the aisle his beloved’s hand to take
His hopes, his dreams, happiness at stake
Concern increases from two to three
His toiling and working no longer carefree
Hustle and bustle taking one here or there
Scolding and molding; mending a tear
Kissing the scrapes and patting their head
Telling them stories shooing them to bed
A brow that was smooth now creased by care
A wrinkled hand goes through thinning gray hair
The nest is now empty he is all alone
The loss of his love; none hear his heart moan
Clustered around his bedside they stand
Spotted aged skin rest in ones young hand
All is dark and somber as a tomb
Cries arise from the silence of the room
