if you’d stayed little
like all mothers sometimes
hope,

then I wouldn’t smile
so brightly now
watching you toddle
in your bright yellow
boots.

and one day
standing in the kitchen,
I’ll be having a conversation
with a man,
and I’ll wonder how it happened.
I’ll think back for
just a second
to once upon a time
when you fit perfect in my
young arms.

but you’ll say, “Mom,”
and I’ll look back at you
instead of everything,
and I’ll think how much I love
that you didn’t stay put
in those bright yellow boots
forever.

timeless string of moments,
never enough.
much too wonderful
to miss. . .
here is my grown son.

so
don’t stay small forever, son,
because I want to know
just who you are
once you grow out of those
bright yellow boots.

-S.V.F.