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I sit
Here where I often sit these days
   But as I look into the fire
     In the hearth
I am far away;
It is spring, and I am a child
     Bare-footed and dancing in the grass
   Swimming in the lake and
               Making mud pies
Then it is summer;
   I am a mother
         Holding hands, wiping noses,
     Smoothing hurts
And waving goodbye
   In through the window of a big yellow bus.
Red turn the leaves
     And it is autumn
My love and I alone again
         Pretending not to mind the
   Empty house -
Learning to enjoy it
  (except for the long-distance phone bill)
   And now, as I gaze at the flames
I realize the leaves have all fallen
       And lie buried under the snow
Both cold and beautiful
And part of my heart
     Aches to think of the seasons past
Yet
   All seasons fade into the next
And secretly, as I sit here,
     My heart is content
And my ears are listening
   For the pitter-pattering of bare little feet
Racing to my door.



© Copyright 2004. Reprinted with permission.

 

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