A Poem

Grown Children

by Sharon Olds

...And now our daughter

is asleep on the couch, not six pounds

thirteen ounces, but about my size,

her great, complex, delicate face

relaxed. And our son, last night, looking closely

at his sweetheart as they whispered for a moment, what a tender
listening look he had. We raised them

daily, I mean hourly--every minute

we were theirs, no hour went by we were not

raising them--carrying them, bearing them, lifting them

up, for the pleasure, and so they could see,

out, away from us.

This poem fell into my lap today.

I loved the words.

They touched my heart and my soul.

And...I cried.

I love my babies.

And...

I love the incredibly wonderful grown-up people

my babies have become!