I am waiting for sleep
As my mother’s instinct wonder what my child is doing these days,
These days,
You don’t call me mommy,
Rather you look at me as
Feeble, old fool,
I know,
I did the same at your age,
I did the same as you
Yearn for freedom and at the same time cling to memories of carefree
Childhood,
Yes you can have both
And love yourself.
This takes work,
Sweat and tears and an understanding that
Yesterday is gone
Tomorrow is yet another day,
The distant clouds
The making of a Parish sunrise,
The quiet of a morning breeze to greet you home.
