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Thursday, March 19, 2009

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!








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