I was sitting on a bench
while in a nearby mall,
When I noticed a young mother
with two children who were small.
The youngest one was whining,
"Pick me up," I heard him beg
But the mother's face grew angry
as the child clung to her leg.
"Don't hang on to me," she shouted
as she pushed his hands away,
I wish I'd had the courage
to go up to her and say...
"The time will come too quickly
when those little arms that tug,
Won't ask for you to hold them
or won't freely give a hug.
The day will sneak up subtly
just as it did with me,
When you can't recall the last time
that your child sat on your knee.
Like those sacred, predawn feedings
when we cherished time alone
Our babies grow and leave behind
those special times we've known.
So when your child comes to you
with a book that you can share,
Or asks that you would tuck them in
and need help to say a prayer...
When your child comes to sit and chat
or would like to take a walk,
Before you answer that you can't
because there's no time to talk.
Remember what all parents learn
so many times too late,
That years go by too quickly
and that childhood doesn't wait.
Take every opportunity,
if one should slip away
Reach hard to get it back again,
don't wait another day."
I watched that mother walk away
her children followed near,
I hope she'll pick them up
before her chances disappear.
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