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Room Upon My Knee
As I saw her on the stage, I smiled...
My mind drifted to when she was three
and we would read her favorite book
as she fell asleep upon my knee.
Now she’s grown and on her own.
Could I possibly have the year wrong?
Wasn’t it only yesterday?
Has it really been that long?
It was a bittersweet moment,
but I didn’t feel glum.
I sat there, marveling,
proud and happy
at the woman she’s become.
Happy we’ve created old memories
I can now recollect,
and happy to create new memories
every time our journeys intersect.
Proud and happy life has played out
the the way it’s supposed to be...
knowing her favorite book still sits on my shelf
and there’s always room upon my knee.
The Years Flew By
When time is invested with energy every moment, time is voided and loving activities and thoughts supercede mere advancement of dates and days, months, and decades. The photo albums fill marking loving via another calendar. I enjoyed this poem - there will always be room on my knee too. - Stella -