Just a few days old, a
precious little life.
The husband stands next to
a tired wife.
Its time to rest, this she
does know.
Carefully, with tears, she
lets go.
Bright September morn, a
boy kicks a stone.
Impatiently waiting, he wants to stand alone.
Mom stands back, Dad says
the bus will show.
She waves at his grin as
she lets go.
Bands and books hype the
late August.
Dad aches from luggage, his
back will adjust.
Mom smiles bravely but moves away slow
Her child to the ivy halls,
she lets go.
The height of June,
flashbulbs pop bright.
A man in black, and a woman
in white.
A dad brings her down,
passes her hand aglow.
The two moms look at their
babies and let go.
Dads smile and nod and make
a joke or two.
Although similar, he has a
different job to do.
Done with grace, though it
hurts her so
A loving mother’s toughest
job, is letting go.
